Meet Me Under The Mistletoe
by Picklewinkle
Summary: Her Christmas countdown notes are driving him to distraction. She might be exactly what he needs in his life, but first he has to figure out who she is.
1. Bah, Humbug!

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. Boo!**

**I've been working on this for a few days. I'm throwing it up unbeta'd because the holidays are busy enough. I didn't want to bother anyone for help at this time of the year. The story has short chapters—less than 1,000 words—but I'll be updating often. The goal is to have it completed by Christmas Day or thereabouts.**

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><p><strong> Meet Me Under The Mistletoe<strong>

**Chapter 1: Bah, Humbug!**

Despite my best effort to ignore the fact that the holidays were right around the corner, I couldn't help but notice that Christmas had puked its red, green and gold color scheme and ostentatious light displays in every available corner of the mall. Under the right circumstances, the decorations might have seemed cheerful—festive, even—but today they just felt spiteful.

And I felt like a bit of a scrooge.

For me, Christmas was about family, and I was inconveniently without mine this year. My parents were traveling to Paris to spend Christmas with Alice. I'd encouraged them to go since Alice was alone and away from home. It's not as if I would have been able to see much of them anyway, with the number of hours I was working. Their trip was the best choice for everyone, and we all knew that, but that didn't make the reality of being alone during the holidays any easier.

With my Venti Caffè Americano in hand, I cursed my addiction to Starbucks and made my way back to work. If I was going to stay alert, my body needed a massive dose of caffeine to finish the last six hours of my shift. There were other things my body was also craving, but the caffeine would have to suffice for now.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I smiled when I read the name on the screen.

"To what do I owe this honor?" I asked.

"I think the honor is mine, sir. I was under the impression that important doctors didn't answer their cell phones, at least according to your sister."

"You know Alice; she can't tell the truth to save her new French life."

She laughed demurely and replied, "It's funny that you mention Paris. That's sort of why I'm calling. I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas."

I groaned. "Not you, too! What is it with the holidays? I can't seem to get away from them this year. Christmas is determined to fuck with me!"

"You don't like Christmas fucking?" she asked in an innocent voice, knowing full well that what she was implying was anything but innocent. It was one of my favorite things about Alice's best friend. Isabella Swan was the quintessential girl next door: kind-hearted, wholesome, and unassuming. Her quiet confidence drew you in, and then she sucker-punched you with her dry humor.

She was quite literally the girl next door, or upstairs, if you will. She lived above me, in the upper unit of my triplex. She was a quiet, thoughtful, and caring neighbor, exactly the sort of person you wanted to share space with.

"Au contraire. In fact, I'm not opposed to fucking that relates to any holiday," I joked.

"Good to know. Of course that implies that you are opposed to some fucking, or maybe it's _no fucking_ you're opposed to." The quiet giggle that bubbled out of her was unexpected and joyful, everything that Bella normally would have held back.

Changing the subject before I got in over my head, I asked, "Did Alice put you up to entertaining me? You know I don't need babysitting, right?"

"Edward, you're a grown man. Of course you don't need a babysitter. I just thought since we're both going to be alone for the holidays, we could be alone together. You know, misery loves company and all that crap."

"And you're sure I won't be keeping you from someone? I don't want to get my ass kicked because I'm monopolizing your time when you're supposed to be at your significant other's parents' house or something." I remembered Alice mentioning that she had a boyfriend, but I'd never seen him around.

"I assure you that my invitation has not been prompted by any relatives, yours or mine, or as a means to avoid the company of anyone significant."

Her voice was so sincere and hopeful that I couldn't say no, even though I knew I'd be terrible company. I was covering so many shifts in the next two weeks that it would be a small miracle if I remembered my own name come Christmas day.

"Then I'm all yours."

"I'm looking forward to it."

We discussed schedules and dinner plans before we said our goodbyes. By the time we'd finished, the prospect of Christmas without my family seemed a lot less harrowing.

That same feeling got even stronger when I arrived home just before midnight and found a note tapped to my door that said: _Meet me under the mistletoe._


	2. He's Making A List And Checking It Twice

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: <strong>**He's Making A List And Checking It Twice**

The next day I mentioned the note to Dr. Whitlock over lunch, thinking it would be a funny anecdote. I'd spent hours trying to figure out who'd left it. There was no signature, and I didn't recognize the handwriting or the stationary. A few names came to mind—a couple of nurses at the hospital who liked to flirt with me and the new girl who'd just moved into the basement apartment of the triplex—but none of them seemed like the right fit. Very few people at work knew where I lived, and I knew for a fact that the new tenant had a boyfriend. It had been well after 3:00 AM before I'd finally succumbed to my exhaustion.

"It was probably some random drunk dare or something. Why else wouldn't she sign it?" Jasper asked. "Unless she's ugly, of course."

"Shut up! Maybe she's just shy."

"Or maybe _she_ is really a _he_."

I threw my crumpled up sandwich wrapper at his face. "You're twisted, man. And you're sucking all of the fun out of this. It's my stinking note. Let me believe she's the woman of my dreams, if I want to. It doesn't hurt you one little bit, if I do."

"Maybe it wasn't even for you," Jasper suggested with one eyebrow raised accusingly at me.

"It was taped to my door," I defended.

"So? There are two other apartments in the building. How do you know it wasn't for one of your neighbors?"

"I don't, I guess." That idea hadn't even occurred to me.

"Hell, for all you know, the person who left that note could have completely fucked up the address; wrong apartment, wrong street number, maybe even the wrong street."

The realization that the sentiment might not have been meant for me bummed me out, and I wasn't even sure why. It had been years since I'd had someone in my life, especially someone I really cared about, and I wasn't looking for a girlfriend. With one hundred hour work weeks not uncommon, free time was sort of a foreign concept at this point in my career. Subjecting a woman to those sorts of time constraints wasn't exactly fair. I hoped that I'd be lucky enough to fall in love someday. I wanted a wife and family of my own, just not right now.

Admittedly, I liked the mystery and overture of the note. It had given me hope and made me dream about the future. The holidays made people nostalgic, and since this was my first Christmas without my family, the idea of having someone to spend the time with was appealing on a very basic level. However, I was being ridiculous, and I knew it. It was one anonymous note, not the promise of love or even connection.

"Cheer up, big guy." Jasper clapped me on the back supportively. "It's not like you'd have a problem getting a lady, if you wanted one. I can think of a half dozen nurses and doctors who'd gladly bump uglies with you."

"That's not really my style, Jazz, but thanks."

I didn't want to tell him that despite not knowing a thing about the woman who'd written the note, she'd already intrigued me more than anyone in my acquaintance.

**~8~8~8~**

I dragged myself home when my double shift was finished, feeling like a disappointed fool. To make matters worse, my nameless, faceless note-writer haunted my dreams, so I woke the next afternoon no better rested than the last time I'd slept. It was ludicrous that one silly note could screw with my life this badly, but it had.

After a quick shower, I put on a fresh pair of scrubs and headed out. I had plenty of time to grab a bite to eat and a coffee from Starbucks, before my shift started. As I slid the key into the deadbolt to lock up the house, I saw my name staring back at me from a piece of heavy weight cardstock that was taped to my door. The familiar, elegant script made my heart skip a beat.

The message read: _On the first day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: a Santa bra that comes off easily_.

The note wasn't romantic or subtle like the first one was, but at least my name was on it. That substantiated that the first note was intended for me. It also sent one of Jasper's suggestions down in flames. My admirer wasn't male, not unless he was a gay cross-dresser.

Much to my frustration, the message was anonymous again, and I was dying to know why. She was going to a lot of trouble if all she wanted to do was write me flirtatious notes. Was she simply shy or was she hiding something?

I went to work wearing a shit-eating grin that stayed put for most of the day. Nothing could wreck my mood, not even when my senior resident threw me under the bus for a mistake he'd made—I would have made the same error in his position—or when the attending all but forced another shift on me.

Aside from the x-rated Mrs. Claus fantasies my mystery girl's note had inspired, I was on top of the world.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. This is update one of three planned for the day. I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. Think she'll give it to me for Christmas? Yeah, I doubt it too.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Don We Now Our Gay Apparel<strong>

A third note arrived while I was at work the following day, but this one came with a package. My hands were shaking as I picked up the box and brought it inside.

The message read: _On the second day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: two pairs of panties. I only needed one, so I left the other one in your care_.

Inside the box was the tiniest pair of panties I'd ever laid eyes on. Dental floss would have provided more discreet coverage than the gossamer fabric these beauties were made of. I stared at the delicate white material in my hands, almost iridescent in its shimmer, and my mind erupted with indecent thoughts about my mystery woman. If her notes were intended to arouse, and it certainly seemed like they were, then she was hitting her mark with precision. How I longed to put a face to her, to see her in these panties and then remove them with my teeth.

Without thinking, I raised the panties to my nose and inhaled deeply. I felt like a sick fuck when I was disappointed by the fact that they were clean. Her game had me insanely turned on. I needed a hint about her identity—something more vital than words on paper—even if it was something as private as her intimate scent. She controlled the game though, and all I picked up was the faint smell of fabric softener. Ironically, it was the same brand I used, so the fragrance was homey and familiar. It made her that much more appealing to me.

I pocketed the panties on purpose, knowing they would torture me a tiny bit every time I put my hand in my pocket. It was like a PG version of sadomasochism, but it was the only link I had to her beyond her notes.

My mystery girl was frequently on my mind now, regardless of the time of day. When I was asleep, she pervaded my dreams, bidding me to come to her but always staying just out of my reach. While I was at work, my focus remained on my patients, but as soon as I was left to my own devices, she popped into my thoughts. My curiosity was definitely getting the better of me.

On a whim, I decided to phone Bella to see if she'd seen anyone around the triplex.

"This is a surprise," she said. "With all the hours you're working, I figured I wouldn't hear from you until Christmas."

"Are you keeping tabs on me, Bella?" I joked, hoping that my teasing might soften her up for the question I planned on asking.

"Maybe," she admitted, laughing nervously. "But it's for your own good. The mailman likes to put the mail for all three apartments in my mailbox, and that leaves me to sort and deliver it. I happen to be an observant person, so I can usually tell if you've been home by whether or not your mail's gone."

"So you're like my own personal postal worker."

"Something like that," she said with a snort.

"Well perhaps you know who's been leaving notes on my door then. Have you seen anyone around?"

"Have _I_ seen anyone around? Like, by your front door, you mean? Nope… just little old me."

"Damn it! I was hoping you'd be able to help me figure out who she is. She doesn't sign her name."

"You don't have _any_ idea who she is?" Bella asked incredulously.

"The only things I know about her are that she uses the same fabric softener I do, has lovely penmanship, and expensive taste in stationary."

"She's really gotten to you, hasn't she? She must know you pretty well, if she knows how to push your buttons so thoroughly."

"She certainly has my attention," I admitted. "What I don't understand is why she hasn't told me who she is, especially if she knows me as well as you think she does."

"Maybe she has."

"I think I'd remember if she'd told me her name," I replied sarcastically.

"There's more to a person than a name. _What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_."

"Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?"

"Goodbye, Edward. And good luck with your note-leaver."

And with that she hung up on me.

I knew more about my mystery girl than I'd let on, but so much of what I knew was too private to reveal. Her messages were audacious and intentionally provocative. She obviously had a very strong sexual side to her personality that she wanted me to know about. A woman who was apathetic about sex didn't own racy panties like the ones she'd given me. She wanted to be on my mind.

And on my mind she was.

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><p><strong>AN**: The quote: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," is from Shakespeare's _Romeo And Juliet_, Act II, Scene II.

This is update two of the day. The third update will be up later. Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing.


	4. Don't Want A Doll, No Dinky Tinkertoy

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. It's a damn shame, if you ask me, which no one did.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: <strong>**Don't Want A Doll, No Dinky Tinkert**_**oy**_

The fourth note appeared in exactly the way they all had: anonymously taped to my door. The difference this time was that I was inside working when she visited. I'd never been awake while she was there.

Between the long hours at work and my dream-ridden sleep, I was exhausted and behind in practically everything: paying bills, laundry, groceries. Hell, I was even overdue for a haircut, a shave, and a shower. I spent my entire day off trying to catch up.

Somewhere in the middle of vacuuming and cleaning out the fridge, my mystery girl showed up. I unexpectedly found her note as I was about to leave to run an errand.

This note was far more erotic than the others, and it left no doubt that she knew who I was.

The message read: _On the third day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: a triple stimulator vibe. Three times the fun. I'm going to fantasize about you while I use it_.

She'd even written in a web address for the toy, at least I presumed it was the model she owned. Either that or she wanted to fuck with my head, because that was exactly what it did. My imagination went into overdrive, visualizing the way she'd spread her thighs and the noises she'd make as she teased herself with the silicone toy. The images were so vivid that my cock was throbbing. I had no choice but to take care of the problem or I wouldn't have been able to function.

That was the first time I whacked off to thoughts of my mystery girl, with her sheer white panties wrapped around my hand, no less.

Somehow I doubted it would be the last.

After a shower, I stole downstairs to the shared laundry facilities. The machine in my apartment was already going, but I could get twice as much done in the same amount of time by using a second machine. Bella was in front of the dryer folding clothes.

"Hey, Bella. Looks like great minds think alike."

She looked over at me and smiled. "If only the dirty laundry would wash itself."

"I won't be in your way, will I?" I asked.

"I'm just finishing up. The washer's all yours."

"She came by again," I offered, wondering absently if Bella had seen my Secret Santa.

"The anonymous note-writer?"

"Yeah. I think she's trying to drive me to distraction."

"And it's working, I see." She pointed at the bottle in my hand and smirked, showing me that I was about to add fabric softener to the load in place of my detergent. "I don't mind if you use my Downy, but you should use my Tide first."

I stared at plastic container in my hand, embarrassed. "Sorry. I thought it was mine. You use the same brand as me."

"Well it's either Downy or Snuggle, and I want to punch that stupid bear every time he opens his mouth."

"Worst voice ever!" I agreed, happy that she'd changed the subject and wasn't going to rib me about my idiocy.

"You're all set then? For detergent and softener and what not," she asked.

"I'm good, thanks."

I offered to carry up her second basket while she was packing up the last of her things. Walking up the two flights of stairs behind her wasn't helping with my fantasies. I'm not sure why I'd never noticed before—maybe because Bella was kind of off-limits because she was Alice's friend—but she had the cutest little ass. I watched every sway and bounce it made, too enthralled to consider how inappropriate my thoughts were. If I didn't snap out of it, I was going to be whacking off a second time that day.

Man did I ever need to get laid.

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><p><strong>AN:** I *heart* the hippopatamus song. =)

Thank you to everyone who's reviewing.

There you have update number three today. I was hoping I might be able to sneak a fourth in. We'll see. Stay tuned.


	5. Reindeer Games

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. But I'd happily accept Edward in my stocking.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Reindeer Games<strong>

The notes kept coming: four velvet cuffs, five flavored lubes, six silicone beads. My girl was not playing fair. Her words described every single fantasy I'd ever had, from tying up my partner to a little back door action. And I had nothing; no face, not even a name.

The eighth note came with another package. My excitement got the better of me, and I ripped open the box before reading her message. Inside was one of the strangest friggen things I'd ever seen, and I'd seen plenty of strange stuff at the hospital. It was something called 'The X-mas Tuggie'. Made of red and white striped fleece, the tagline said it all: _the fuzzy sock that warms your cock_.

Either my mystery girl was looking to provide some comic relief, or she was batshit crazy. Did she really want me to wear this thing on my junk? Sure it was festive, and maybe that was her angle, but it was not the least bit sexy.

It did, however, give me another hint about her. She'd never seen my junk, because if she had, she'd know there was no way in hell I was going to fit into that sock.

In the back of my mind I'd been worried that my mystery girl was no mystery at all, but someone who was purposely keeping her identity a secret to hide our former relationship. She certainly knew a lot about my fantasies, things a former lover might remember. At the same time, my exes were intimately acquainted with the size of my parts. They would know I'd need a bigger sock.

I was relieved that she was someone new. There wasn't anyone from my past that I wanted to rekindle a relationship with.

I plopped down on the couch to read the note.

_There are seven red stripes on this tuggie. Not only will it keep your manhood warm, I can lick you like a candy cane. And I love peppermint_.

This woman was slowly killing me. She wasn't trying to flirt with me or seduce me. She wanted me to die from blue balls. Or maybe she just liked the idea of me masturbating. This whole game was probably like wank fodder for her, or the female equivalent, if there even was one. Whether she knew it or not, I was going to give her exactly what she was after.

I leaned into the back of the couch and unzipped my jeans, shamelessly pulling out my hard-on in the middle of the living room. She was turning me into a desperate man. I was past the point of pretending I wasn't. My free hand dug into my pocket and pulled out her panties. Wanting to keep some semblance of dignity, I left them balled up in my palm this time, instead of rubbing them on my cock.

With closed eyes, I concocted an image of her tiny ass, one petite enough to fit into the teensy white garment she'd sent me. I imagined sliding my cock between her rounded cheeks, pushing them together to create the perfect friction. My thoughts were about as selfish as they could get, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. I wasn't concerned with her pleasure at all. In fact, I wanted to tease her mercilessly without ever giving her what she wanted. I wanted her to know that I was angry with her for stringing me along and hiding her identity from me. That anger fueled my lust. My hand pumped furiously, my hips rising off the couch to further imitate the image in my mind's eye.

When I came, the orgasm was powerful—almost overwhelming—and marked by way too much misplaced emotion. I'd allowed myself to feel connected to her, which was a stupid thing to do because she wasn't real. She was nothing more than a figment of my imagination until she revealed herself to me. And I had no way to make that happen. It was all up to her.

I couldn't keep doing this to myself. This had to stop, and it had to stop immediately.

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><p><strong>AN:** It's real, I swear: http:/ / pinkcherry(dot)ca/the-x-mas-tuggie

When I came across it when I was doing my research, I knew I had to include it in the list, after I stopped giggling, of course. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm still giggling.

Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing. Another update later today, for sure.

To those who celebrate, Happy Christmas Eve.


	6. Visions of Sugarplums

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I have a cousin named Stephanie, but it's not her.**

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><p><strong>6: Visions of Sugarplums<strong>

Before I went to work the next day, I taped a note for my mystery girl to my front door. In it I asked for one of two things: for her to tell me who she was or to please leave me alone.

It was my own fault that her game wasn't fun—I'd taken things too seriously my entire life—but her words had struck a chord with me. She'd made me realize that I wanted someone in my life, even if maintaining that relationship was going to be hard. She'd made me hope that I could find a woman who would give me her understanding and challenge me to give more of myself.

Being alone didn't make me happy.

If my mystery girl wanted to be a part of my life, then she had to step up to the plate or forfeit the game. There were beautiful woman around me every day. The perfect one might be right under my nose, but because I was too wrapped up in an imaginary relationship, I couldn't see her. No more.

I scrutinized every female within a fifty-foot radius of me that day, going out of my way to be warm and friendly to everyone I spoke with. I saw flirters, ignorers, touchers, adulterers, vixens, sirens, and harpies. What I didn't find was a single, genuine woman who saw me as anything more than eye candy. Sure, some of them were respectful, but I always got the feeling it was because of my title, not who I was as a person. By the end of my shift, I felt dirty and used, of my own making.

My note was gone from the door by the time I got home from work, but she'd left no reply. To say that I was disappointed was a vast understatement. Even though I knew it was probably for the best that things were over, I had hoped she'd choose to introduce herself. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

After a few shots of tequila to sufficiently nurse my bruised ego, I went to bed with the hope of dreaming of my mystery girl one last time.

My doorbell rang in the middle of the night, waking me from a fitful sleep. I stumbled out of bed to answer it, opening the door to find a small box on my porch. A card was affixed to the top, my name written in her familiar handwriting. She'd just been there, was probably still close by, but still out of my reach.

I brought the box inside, choosing to read her words before I opened it.

_Leaving you alone would be like parting with my soul._

_If you want to see who I am, you need only to look. If you want to know who I am, close your eyes and let your heart tell you._

"_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." _

The intensity of her sentiment took my breath away. The quote was from Shakespeare,_ A Midsummer Night's Dream_ if I wasn't mistaken. It told me that she knew the value of a person, something of elemental importance to me, and it made me want to meet her all the more.

The box contained a sealed envelope and a second note. It read: _On the eighth day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: eight tiny beads on a pretty piece of silver jewelry. Would you like to see?_

The envelope contained a small trinket and a folded piece of paper. The trinket was a sterling silver clip of some sort. Its arms were elongated, and four metallic pearls hung off each side. I had no clue what it was for until I looked at the paper.

Quite honestly, I was floored by it.

It was an intimate picture of my mystery girl, or rather, her pussy. The clip adorned her erect clit like a hairpin, while the beads dangled down on either side. She was exquisite, and I couldn't help but think that she was like a Christmas gift just waiting to be unwrapped. It was, hands down, the most erotic picture anyone had ever sent me.

I studied the picture for clues about her. The fingers that were visible were small, so she was petite, just like I had suspected. She wore no rings, and her fingernails were short and unpainted. It was maddening that her flawless hands were void of any distinguishing features, as was the rest of her. She was lovely, though. Her pale cream thighs looked silky soft and inviting, and she was shaved bare except a small landing strip.

I guess the game was back on.

Nothing had really changed. I still didn't know her name or who she was, except now I could now identify her by her most intimate body part. It was fitting in a way, considering she'd gone out of her way to share intimate details about her fantasies over the past ten days. I'm sure most men couldn't think of anything more intimate than a pussy.

For me, her name would have been infinitely more intimate and personal.

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><p><strong>AN**: Non piercing clitoral jewelry, who'd a thunk it? http:/ /www(dot)sexshopcanada(dot)com/catalog/clitoral-jewelry(dot)html

The quote: "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind," is indeed from Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act I, Scene I.

Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing.

I'm going to sneak this second update in just before midnight, making my promise of two updates with five or so minutes to spare. I'm sure you're all nestled and snug in your beds with visions of sugar plums dancing in your heads. :D I'm not sure about an update for tomorrow, since I'm cooking the family dinner. I'm going to do my best.

Merry Christmas.


	7. Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty Or Nice

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I own the game Twilight Princess, which I often refer to as Toilet Princess, but that's another story entirely.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty Or Nice<strong>

I received a bonus note later that same day, probably so my mystery girl could stay on schedule with her twelve days of Christmas countdown. It said: _On the ninth day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: a black leather cat o'nine tails_.

Shocked, I blinked hard and shook my head, willing the words on the paper to change. I had no desire to whip anyone, most especially my lover, so this idea left me feeling a bit out of sorts. Was she into BDSM? Because I certainly wasn't. Sure I liked to swat the occasional ass, but it was generally only when my partner asked for it or as a gateway behavior to introduce more adventurous ideas like dirty talk or new positions. I wanted no part of spanking as a punishment, dominant behavior, or as a means to cause intentional pain.

It appeared my mystery girl might be more complicated than I first thought. I considered writing to her to ask her about her sexual predilections but decided I was getting ahead of myself. There were simpler, more important questions that needed answering. In my note, I asked whether we were ever going to meet.

Her reply was on my door when I returned home after my shift.

_Patience, my dear. You have to wait until Christmas to open your present._

_Perhaps the whip wasn't to your liking. I confess I've never used one, but I'd be willing to give almost anything a try with you._

_On the tenth day of Christmas, my lover took to a different kind of torture, with 10 silken feathers on a marabou tickler. "For I dearly love to laugh."_

The quote seemed familiar, but I needed Google to tell me that it was a line from Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_. Aside from reading the book in high school, my only other exposure to the story was watching the movie with Alice a few years back. I'd listened to her prattle on about the double blind date she and Bella had endured when they went to the movie's premiere. Even their love of the book couldn't save their evening.

My mind switched gears, focusing on the marabou tickler. It was much more my speed than the whip was. It would provide a long, slow tease that was both gentle and erotic. I'd strip her bare and blindfold her before I used it. She'd be writhing and begging by the time I was done with her, and I'd enjoy every single second of it.

As far as waiting for Christmas to meet her, it wasn't as if I had any other choice. I was at her mercy until she revealed her identity to me. She obviously had something in mind, but her plan was as much a mystery to me as she was. I was working the first twelve hours of Christmas day and had plans with Bella in the late afternoon. My mystery girl had a very narrow window of opportunity to make good on her promise, yet something told me she had it all under control.

Christmas day was going to be a very interesting, that was for sure.

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><p><strong>AN:** Poor clueless Edward. Hand the boy some eggnog and slap him once for me.

Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing.

I'm hoping to have another update today. Fingers crossed.


	8. Silent Night Holy Night!

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. And I can't think of anything clever to write here.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>: **Silent Night. Holy Night!**

I spent Christmas Eve day anxiously anticipating my mystery girl's second last note. I was sure it would give me directions on when and where we'd meet.

Only it didn't come.

Nothing came. No note, no package, not a single word.

I even drove home on my evening break to check for it. Finding nothing there was like a kick in the teeth.

From that point on, anything even mildly related to the holidays made me bristle, and God forbid I cross paths with someone who was especially cheerful or filled with Christmas spirit. If I was a curmudgeon two weeks ago before the notes started coming, now I was downright misanthropic. I was irrationally angry at everything and everyone.

I hadn't realized that I was depending on her. Hell, it didn't make sense that I was, and I was mad at myself for allowing it to happen. She hadn't promised me anything, so I had no right to be pissed off at her. It wasn't her job to make my dreams come true, even if her notes had made me think that having someone like her in my life might do just that. She was nothing more than exactly what she'd always been: a fabrication of a real person, a compilation of assumptions about who she might be based on my impression of her words.

Just after midnight, my attending took pity on me and ordered me to get some sleep in the on-call room. Our patient load was lighter than anticipated, and he was confident that he could handle the traffic without me. It was possible that he saw how worn out I was, but I wouldn't have been surprised if he was sick of being around me. My attitude was about as much fun as a cold, wet blanket. Either way, I was glad I'd be able to avoid other people for a while. Sleep was a welcome escape.

My pager went off at 3:34 AM. Dr Gerandy was tied up in the operating room, and I was needed on the floor. It was after 6:00 Christmas morning before I cleared the backlog of cases. I was headed back to the on-call room, passing by the nurses' station, when Nurse Cope stopped me.

"Dr. Cullen, you had a visitor while you were sleeping." She pointed to a fresh pair of scrubs, neatly folded on the back counter.

"Not me. You must be mistaken, Nurse Cope."

"When a young woman drops off clean scrubs and a cup of Starbucks coffee for someone at 2:00 in the morning, I'm fairly certain that's a deliberate act."

"Wait! She was here? You saw her?"

"If by _she_ you mean the girl I spoke to, then yes. I offered to wake you up so she could give you what she'd brought herself, but she was adamant that you needed your sleep."

"Of course she was," I muttered, frustrated that she'd chosen to stay anonymous yet again. I rolled my eyes and ran my hand through my hair. "I don't suppose she left her name with you, did she?"

"No, doctor. Just the clothing and coffee."

I cursed under my breath before forcing a smile to my lips. Despite my frustration with the situation, it was not Nurse Cope's fault, and I had no right to take it out on her. After quietly thanking her for her help, I gathered my things and left.

"Lovely brown eyes," Nurse Cope added as I opened the on-call room door.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Your lady friend had warm, soulful brown eyes, if that helps. She was all bundled up, so I didn't notice much else about her, but her eyes were just beautiful."

I nodded and thanked her, letting the door close behind me.

Surprisingly, I didn't feel relieved that the note I'd been so anxious for had come. Maybe I was just being cautious after feeling so disappointed. In my mind, I'd already let go of her. Plus, I think I was in shock that she'd been at the hospital.

I warmed up the coffee to stall for time, having trouble getting my head around the fact that she somehow knew where and when I worked. It was borderline creepy, if I was being honest, especially since I knew so little about her. I took a sip and when the taste of the coffee registered on my tongue, I shivered involuntarily. Caffè Americano; she knew my coffee order.

I was beginning to feel cornered.

I ripped open the note.

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: a corset with eleven laces to undo. Go slowly. Oh the anticipation_.

_Until this evening…_

There was no other information. Since she'd given me no address to meet her at and no other directions to follow, it seemed likely that she planned to come to my house. In fact, I couldn't think of any other conclusion to draw given that it was Christmas day and most businesses would be closed.

Her plan didn't sit very well with me. Leaving notes on my door was one thing, but inviting herself into my home was completely another, especially when I knew so little about her. I'd assumed our first encounter would be somewhere public, like a café or a bar; someplace where we could get to know one another a little. Not once had I ever envisioned us meeting in my living room. That seemed like all kinds of wrong to me.

I felt like a moron. Instead of carefully considering the situation, including its pitfalls, I'd gotten carried away with the idea of finding someone to share my life with. I'd idealized her with my daydreaming, but I knew virtually nothing about her. We had a handful of sexual fantasies in common, that was it.

My head was spinning. I grabbed a quick shower to try to clear it, and then hastily changed before morning rounds. I'd seen about half of my patients when the familiar scent on my scrubs registered as Downy fabric softener. The realization made my stomach twist. In my exhausted stupor, I hadn't given the clothing she'd delivered a second thought. Not only were they the right size—a feat in itself since I needed both the pants and top in tall—but they were laundered.

Her actions were not those of a casual admirer but closer to a stalker. I moved from slightly worried to full on freaking out at that point.

After I finished rounds, I sent Bella a text to confirm that I'd see her around 4:00. I didn't want her to come looking for me and come face-to-face with whoever was sending the notes. I had no idea what the woman might be capable of, and I wasn't going to risk Bella's safety. I'd always felt rather protective of her, and if she were hurt because of my stupidity and recklessness, I'd never be able to forgive myself.

Once I was home, I phoned my friend Peter, a member of the local police force, and explained what was going on. After he had a good laugh at my expense—I believe he used the words desperate and sex-starved—he assured me I had nothing to worry about. Since my presumed stalker hadn't made any threats against me, it was highly unlikely that she was violent or mentally unstable. It made me feel mildly better, but I still felt like a giant douchebag for getting myself into the situation in the first place.

The last thing I did before going to bed was lock all the doors, just in case.

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><p><strong>AN:** I await your reviews. I'm very curious what you're all going to think about this chapter :D

Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing.

I'm hoping to have another chapter by the end of tomorrow, time permitting.


	9. Some Turkey & Some Mistletoe

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I own a **_**tri-light**_** with a lovely shade. It's right over there. *points***

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Everybody Knows A Turkey And Some Mistletoe Help To Make The Season Bright<strong>

I scanned the yard after knocking on Bella's door. It's strange how paranoid you become when you're waiting for something bad to happen. There was no way to know whether things would turn out badly if my mystery woman showed up, but I was more comfortable staying on guard. It was easier to be mentally prepared for the worst case, to be aware of the possibility of danger and what I could do to prevent it. It would give me control over the situation and prepare me to act quickly, should the need arise.

Bella hollered, telling me to come up, so I let myself in. Before going upstairs, I locked the door behind me.

"Do you always let people in before checking to see who it is?" I called out, only half joking with my chastisement.

She greeted me with a smile, appearing in the kitchen doorway as I hung my jacket in the closet. I pulled her in for a hug and kissed her cheek, feeling the warmth of the oven on her skin when my lips made contact. Having her in my arms brought me an unexpected burst of happiness because I had proof that she was safe. "It smells wonderful in here," I whispered next to her ear. "And you really should lock your door. You can't be too careful."

"Ok, dad." She swatted my chest playfully and pulled away from me.

I followed her into the kitchen and asked what I could do to help. She assured me she had it all under control. After getting me a glass of wine, she led me to the living room to introduce me to her other guests: Rosalie from downstairs and her boyfriend Emmett.

The four of us chatted and enjoyed the wine. My cheeks heated when I remembered my speculation about Rosalie being my mystery woman. I couldn't have been more off the mark. After watching her with Emmett for about five minutes, it was clear how deeply in love with him she was, and he with her. After the day I'd had, it was almost painful to watch their display, since they had exactly what I wanted. All I had was a stalker I was trying to avoid.

When Bella got up to check on dinner, I followed her, needing a break from the lovebirds. Bella refilled her glass of wine and took a large swallow. After setting the glass down on the counter, she walked over to the sink to wash her hands. With her back to me, my gaze immediately settled on her ass, which was perfectly outlined in the tight jeans she wore. On top she wore a sleeveless, red blouse that draped low in the front, even lower in the back, and hugged her petite frame in all the right places.

"You look good. Christmas must agree with you."

She blushed furiously and reached for another sip of wine. "Thanks," she mumbled. A moment later she turned toward me, her eyes meeting mine. "The last two weeks have been kind of crazy, but I love Christmas."

"Crazy doesn't begin to cover it. I've worked twice as many hours as usual, and then there's the whole note fiasco."

Bella looked panicked for a moment and then dashed to the stove to stir something. "Yeah, about that… I-"

"Is there anything I can help with?" Rosalie asked, interrupting whatever Bella was about to say.

"Thanks, Rosalie. Would you fill the water glasses on the table and make sure everyone has wine for the meal?"

"Of course." Bella handed Rosalie a pitcher of water and the wine bottle from the refrigerator, and Rosalie disappeared into the dining room.

I asked Bella what she was about to say, but she told me it would have to wait until later. It was time for the turkey to come out of the oven.

The meal came together quickly. While I carved the bird, Bella finished the side dishes. She was a dynamo in the kitchen. She made it look effortless, even though I knew how demanding it was after seeing my mother do it for so many years. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her work.

The small table we sat around was overflowing with food. Bella must have called my sister for advice because all of my favorites were there. She'd even baked fresh rolls from scratch. I was touched that she'd gone to so much trouble to make me feel at home for my first Christmas without my family.

The wine and conversation flowed freely. Bella was a gracious hostess, continually offering more of everything she had to her guests. Rosalie was much friendlier now that we knew each other a little better, and Emmett was a tremendously warm and carefree individual. I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed myself so much or felt so relaxed. The wine I'd consumed didn't hurt either.

Bella was in the kitchen putting dessert together when I heard her yelp. I rushed to her and found her leaning over the sink, running her hand under the water.

"Here, let me," I offered, gently turning her hand over so I could examine it.

"It's nothing," she promised. "I was shaving some chocolate. The peeler barely nicked me."

"Well, I don't think you're going to lose the finger," I joked. "But a bandage is probably a good idea. I know chocolate shavings with blood are all the rage this year, but I don't really care for the combination."

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "The first aid kit is in the bathroom cabinet. Would you mind getting it for me?"

When I returned, I took her hand and said, "Hold very still. Bandage application is serious business."

"It's a good thing we have a professional here," she said with a giggle.

I dabbed on some antiseptic and blew on the cut, hoping to make her giggle again. There was something about the joyful sound that warmed up my insides.

By the time I'd finished bandaging Bella's finger, Emmett and Rosalie had come into the kitchen with their coats on. Emmett apologized for cutting the evening short, but Rosalie had received a text that her best friend Kate had finally given birth, and he wanted to take her to see the baby before visiting hours were over. Though I was disappointed they were leaving, I couldn't begrudge them the obvious excitement they were both feeling.

I shook Emmett's hand and kissed Rosalie's cheek, congratulating them and wishing them a happy New Year. Rosalie looked into my eyes and scrutinized me for a moment, before telling me to enjoy the rest of my evening. Emmett simply laughed and told me he'd call me about going to a football game this coming weekend.

When Bella returned from walking them to the door, she excused herself, explaining that she'd gotten blood on her blouse and needed to treat the stain before it set and ruined the blouse. The awkward smile on her face confused me; the way she backed out of the room, even more so. It was like she was nervous all of a sudden, except she had no reason to be. We'd always gotten along well. She was smart and witty, and I found it really easy to talk to her. Being around her was as uncomplicated as it got.

I was sad to see the end of the red blouse though. She looked lovely in the color. Maybe it was pent-up sexual frustration from the notes or my recent longing to find someone to share my life with, but I'd done more than my fair share of staring at her tonight. Probably even a little flirting. There really wasn't any other way to describe what I'd done when I was bandaging her finger. I could always blame the wine, if I needed an excuse, or I could simply be honest and tell her she was beautiful.

As usual, my timing left a little to be desired. Emmett and Rosalie's departure had shifted the atmosphere between us. I didn't want to make Bella feel more awkward, though I wasn't sure what I'd done to make her feel that way to begin with. Maybe my flirting had made her uncomfortable or I'd overstepped my bounds by touching her without permission. If she didn't think of me in a romantic way, it would explain her sudden onset of nervousness.

As soon as I heard her in the kitchen, I went to her. I needed to apologize for my behavior. I'd hate myself in the morning if I let her feel uncomfortable because I'd gone too far.

"Bella, I'm sorry if I-"

"Are you ready for dessert?" she asked, interrupting me mid-sentence. Not that it mattered. As soon as I saw her, I lost the ability to speak.

The red blouse was nowhere in sight. Except for the apron and oven mitts she wore, all I saw was a monumental amount of creamy, bare skin.

She froze for a moment when my eyes met hers, then continued walking to the stove. As she turned away, I saw red satin and black trim. With my mouth hanging open, my eyes followed the path of the thick, black ribbon running through each set of grommets.

It was a corset.

I gulped in air and desperately tried to think, but only one thing came to mind.

"Holy shit! You're Mrs. Claus."

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><p><strong>AN**: So what did you think? =) It was a longer chapter than the others, but not too long.

Big squishy hugs to everyone reading and reviewing.

Cross your fingers that the writing gods are good to me so that I'll be able to update tomorrow. Otherwise it will be Saturday.

Until next time…


	10. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I own a big screen TV upon which I'll watch the ball drop tonight, but as vampires go, I'm sadly under-stocked. *pouts***

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: All I Want For Christmas Is You<strong>

"You're Mrs. Claus," I repeated, completely incapable of reining in my shock.

How could this be? This was Bella—sweet, innocent, girl-next-door Bella. Reconciling her with the perception of my mystery woman was impossible. The woman leaving me notes was experienced, forward, maybe even a little wild. She was the exact opposite of what Bella appeared to be.

"Mrs. Claus?" she asked, bending over to take something out of the oven.

The contrast of the black lace trim against the shiny red fabric of her panties stole my attention, at least until I realized the panties were peek-a-boo style. At that point my brain short-circuited. Every electrical impulse that remained in my body focused on pumping as much blood to my groin as was physiologically possible.

"My mystery woman," I squeaked. "The note-leaver, the Christmas countdown creator, the anonymous gift giver, the deliverer of clean scrubs and correct Starbucks orders. Holy fuck! How did I miss this?"

Bella stood up and moved back to the counter, never once looking my way. "I've asked myself that same question," she said quietly.

"But you… I… you..."

"Your last note is right there." She pointed to the corner of the counter. "I'll be insulted if you don't read it, so go ahead."

I reached for the card with a great deal of apprehension, feeling like now was really not the time to be looking at it.

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, my lover gave to me: twelve condoms—bought with you in mind—and I intend for you to use every single one before I'm done with you._

Under the note was a box of condoms. I smirked when I realized she'd purchased the larger sized ones. Apparently my mystery girl had been paying attention. I knew that stupid tuggie was a joke, or maybe a vehicle to tell me she wanted to suck my cock. Either way I was good with it, though given the choice, I avidly preferred the second option.

With my brain still in the middle of a nuclear meltdown, I said the first thing that came to my mouth that didn't divulge the fact that I approved of her checking out my junk. "Cute panties."

She laughed nervously, making the Santa hat she wore slide forward and cover one of her eyes. A fresh sprig of mistletoe was tied to the tip of the hat. It was adorable. _She_ was adorable.

The Santa hat, the mistletoe, the nervous laugh—these were all the Bella I knew.

"Sorry I never got a chance to deliver it. I was busy making dinner."

"Bella…"

She pulled off the oven mitts one by one, and then lifted the strap of the apron over her head. Standing there in front of me in her corset and panties had the desired effect. She was breathtaking, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

True to the side of Bella I was familiar with, she fidgeted nervously, her hands flitting in perpetual motion. She was a little unsteady on her feet, probably from the amount of wine she'd consumed, although it could have easily been due to the shoes she was wearing. I tried to remember if I'd ever seen her in stilettos. Alcohol notwithstanding, a man with even a smidgen of male pride should forever be able to recall a sight like that—one so sexy it was capable of causing spontaneous orgasm—so I was pretty sure I'd never seen her in a pair. They made her legs look fantastic, but only because her legs _were_ fantastic. The shoes were simply the last prop in her costume of mass seduction.

As good as she looked, I didn't want her to think she had to dress up or be someone else to get my attention. It wasn't her fault that I'd been so blind. I was more than willing to be seduced, but I wanted this to be more than a drunk hookup.

Earlier in the kitchen when I'd held her hand so I could bandage her cut, I'd blamed what I felt—the tingling on my skin and the butterflies in my stomach—on my state of intoxication, but she was the intoxicating one.

Her notes had shaken up my life, but the pieces had somehow fallen into place. I'd been dense enough to miss every hint she'd dropped along the way, but I was not so obtuse that I couldn't see that she was what I'd been searching for.

Can you tell a woman that she's exactly what you need in your life when you're drunk and horny, without it sounding like a come-on? I was pretty sure that the sincerity of anything I could say in my current condition would be misconstrued at some later date as me trying to get a piece of ass. Make no mistake: I wanted that piece of ass. There was a part of me that would argue I might die from blue balls without it, but if being with Bella tonight prevented me from having a relationship with her, then I'd be a moron to go through with it and jeopardize my chances with her.

I was so confused. It was impossible to concentrate for more than a second at a time with Bella in front of me, so scantily dressed. God, she looked good in that corset. I'm sure the fucker was horribly uncomfortable, but it pulled her in and pushed her up in all the right ways. In exactly the right ways to start a fire in me, until I was making a list of all of the places I wanted to explore. The list was getting longer by the second.

"Bella, we're both drunk."

"Yes, doctor. That's what happens when one drinks beverages that contain alcohol." She was bolder than me, determinedly closing the distance between us. As if she could sense my hesitation or knew what I was thinking, she added, "Don't overthink this, Edward."

"How is it overthinking, if I'm trying to make sure we both get what we want?"

She sighed and hoisted herself onto the counter of the kitchen island. She was eyelevel with me now, and so, so close. Her proximity made the impulse to reach out and touch her virtually impossible to ignore.

"Just kiss me then; one little kiss on the lips."

The pleading in her voice gutted me. She had no idea how ill equipped I was to resist her, or how badly I'd wanted to kiss her all night long. But that was Bella. She was oblivious to her own beauty and magnetism.

I leaned in slowly, opposing the pull between us so I was acutely aware of each second. I wanted to remember the fall. I knew once I touched her, there was no going back.

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><p><strong>AN**: First off, Happy New Year! We're about 3 hours away here. I hope everyone has an amazing night. Stay safe, and have an awesome 2012!

I'm hoping to update tomorrow, but realistically it will be Monday.

I'm opening my bottle of Jackson & Triggs 2006 Silver Series Entourage Méthode Classique Brut tonight to celebrate, and I'll toast all you wonderful souls! Thanks for all of your support in 2011. You'll never know how happy it makes me that you read and review my work.

Until next time…


	11. Joy To The World

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I have an expired 2008 Twilight calendar that still hangs above my writing desk and serves as inspiration. **

To **Stacee** and **Rachel**, who encourage me without even realizing it.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Joy To The World<strong>

"I'm tired of trying to stay away from you," I whispered, my mouth a couple of inches away from where it longed to be.

A hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. "Then don't."

"Be careful what you wish for," I warned. "You said there were twelve condoms in that box, right?"

She giggled, and I was done for; so, so ready to drown in her.

"I'm not getting any younger here," she teased, her gaze betraying her intensity. I liked that she wasn't afraid to show how much she wanted this.

"There's just one more thing."

"What?"

"I want tonight, but I want tomorrow, too. And maybe the next day… and probably the day after that."

She smirked. "Shouldn't we get through tonight first?"

"I won't even kiss you unless you promise that I have a chance with you when we're both sober."

"Oh, Edward. You had me the day we met. I've been waiting for you to realize it ever since."

Her admission unleashed an avalanche of emotion in me, followed by a host of things that needed to be said: an apology, a thank-you, a scream of pure, unadulterated joy. But I selfishly knew there would be time for words later. Right now, I just wanted her.

"I'm going to kiss you now."

"Promises, promises," she whispered.

This was one promise I intended to keep.

There was nothing gentle about the way our lips met. It was rawness that comforted and vulnerability that protected. Beyond the attraction and desire that had built between us was relief and homecoming. It was one of the few times in my life when I knew without a doubt that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her closer until I felt the warmth of her skin across my chest. Her hands moved to my collar, unbuttoning buttons with anxious fingers. My heart yelled: _don't rush_. My head begged: _touch me_. My lips stayed silent, happily lost in Shangri-La.

When her hands met my bare skin, I realized that what was happening between us was different—something incredible and rare—because her touch eclipsed every other I'd ever experienced. It was tender and reverent, yet entirely enrapturing. I was putty in her hands.

Bella whimpered in frustration as she struggled to finish removing my shirt, forgetting about the buttons on my cuffs.

"Let me," I offered, helping by making quick work of the buttons at my wrists.

Her hands flew to my waist, hurriedly unbuckling my belt and popping the button on my pants. She hesitated for only a moment, stroking me a couple of times through the wool and cotton before slipping her hand inside my boxer briefs.

I groaned embarrassingly loud and thrust my hips at her, fully expecting her to laugh at me or pull away in disgust. Instead, she looked into my eyes and smiled proudly, slowly running her hand up and down my cock.

It didn't take long for her to bring me to the edge. It had been eons since I'd been with anyone.

"If you keep that up, you're going to make me come in my pants like a teenage boy."

She giggled her magical giggle, but didn't stop. Hell, she didn't even slow down. I tried to distract her by inching her legs open and stroking her thighs, but it made no difference. She was moving full steam ahead, despite my indirect request for a slowdown. It made me wonder about her motivation, whether we were on the same page or if she was just in this for the sex.

I shifted away from Bella, trying to make it harder for her to reach me, but she just scooted forward. Her ass was so far off the edge of the counter that she had to wrap her calves around my body for balance. It was beyond hot, but exactly the wrong thing for me, given my condition. To be specific, I was approaching DEFCON 1: nuclear war was imminent and my pistol was definitely cocked.

"Do you have some where you need to be?" I asked with a chuckle. "We don't need to rush this."

I only wanted to remove the time constraints, maybe make her smile with my quip, but all I managed to do was upset her. I could see the change in her expression immediately, and within moments she had tears in her eyes.

My hands instinctively went to her face, tenderly cupping her cheeks. "Hey, what is it?"

She was all wide eyes and silence for a minute. I began to worry that she was having second thoughts about being with me. I couldn't imagine what else would be so difficult to say. Whatever it was, it was clearly a big deal to her.

I stared into her eyes and willed her tears to stay put. Seeing a woman cry was near the top of my personal list of things I hated to witness. Having it happen in the midst of what I hoped would lead to sex was pretty much the worst of all possible scenarios.

"You don't know how long I've waited for you," she whispered, her voice rough with emotion she desperately tried to contain. "And now you're here; you're _really_ here… and…"

"I'm here." I echoed her words, hoping that hearing them from my mouth would reassure her.

"I want you. I want to touch you and taste you and feel you, and I don't want to wait. I'm not looking for perfection. I just want the _real_ you, any way I can have you."

Any restraint I'd been clinging to, crumbled. She'd given me carte blanche. There were no expectations about foreplay or intimacy, and she didn't give a shit how long I lasted. I was completely free to do what I pleased. The irony was: the only person I had any desire to please was her.

I ran my hands along her knees, spreading her thighs and pulling her tight to my groin. I wanted her to feel what she did to me, where she wanted to feel me the most. She moaned softly, letting her head fall against my shoulder as she reveled in the sensation.

Taking advantage of her choice of panties, my fingers delicately teased her pussy through the split in the fabric. There was something undeniably sexy about feeling the smooth satin and her slick heat against my hand at the same time. It was like talking dirty without words. In the back of my mind I knew she'd still be wearing them when I fucked her for the first time.

As my pace picked up, Bella whispered to me—tiny, sometimes incoherent messages of encouragement or bliss. The two most common were _fuck_ and _oh, God_. I rather liked hearing her curse, especially murmured close to my ear. I always knew how she was feeling through her emphasis and syllabication, and it was so much more satisfying than trite burbling or uncomfortable silence. It was real and alive and perfectly Bella.

I told her how badly I wanted to be inside of her, just as she hit the point of no return.

Everything about her orgasm was beautiful: the way her head tipped back, the wave of her long hair as her body shook, the way her breasts angled up at me in invitation as her back arched. Her fingers dug into my triceps, communicating the intensity of what she was feeling when she was unable to verbalize. It was captivating to watch. I wanted to take her to the bedroom and make it happen all over again.

"Come on, let's get you into your bed," I said softly, kissing her forehead. Before I could gather her limp body in my arms, she pulled away and lay down on the counter.

"You forgot something," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, tossing the box of condoms at me. She scooted to the edge of the counter and opened her legs, stroking her clit while she stared at me expectantly.

_Game on_.

I ripped the box open with my teeth, holding it in one hand while my other hand shoved my pants and boxers off my hips. It wasn't elegant or suave, but I didn't care. A man only gets that kind of invitation a handful of times in his life, if he's lucky. I wasn't going to squander it arguing semantics.

She was grinning from ear-to-ear as she watched me put the condom on. A part of me wanted to know whether she was excited about the size of my cock or the prospect of me being inside her, but I was too impatient to figure it out. I lifted her body towards mine and positioned myself between her legs.

The counter was the perfect height for me. I slid into her, alternating between holding my breath and gasping because she felt so incredibly tight around my cock. Without the condom, I would have come already.

I was slow to find a rhythm, partly because she was so damn distracting lying on display in front of me. My eyes swept over her body and eventually landed on where we were joined. It was fucking hot to watch my dick move in and out of her. Bella must have felt the same, lifting herself up on her elbows to watch.

My hands found her hips as I moved. I wasn't being rough with her, but the softness of her skin against my fingertips reminded me that she was fragile. Not a delicate flower or intricate glass Christmas ornament, but a gentle soul and open heart. It was it was my responsibility to be careful with each and every part of her.

Every stroke in and out brought me closer. The intensity of her gaze made it worse. I was on the verge of orgasm in no time.

I needed one tiny thing from her, and I wasn't ashamed to ask her for it. Lifting her body to mine, I put my lips to her ear and whispered, "Hold me." I wanted her arms around me—needed her next to me—to let go. I was too far gone to wait for her to come again, but our connection was too big to navigate on my own.

I stopped fighting the sensations as soon as I felt her hands on my skin. She peppered my neck with gentle kisses while she held me against her body, and I floated into oblivion.

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><p><strong>AN**: I apologize for the delay in updating. I had extra, unexpected shifts at work this week, and I didn't want to post this chapter without delivering, if you catch my drift. :D

I'm aiming for Friday with the next chapter.

This chapter was a bit long for the format I've used in the story, but given the subject matter, not too bad in length. I was going for a _less is more_ approach. Did I succeed?

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so leave a review.


	12. It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I have the book in hard cover. I even opened it today to check a quote. Can you find the reference to it?**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year<strong>

Last night was perfect.

I hated to leave. I couldn't think of a single place on Earth I'd rather be. Not having coffee with my parents and Alice, with a view of the Eiffel Tower, or shaking Drew Brees' hand on the 50-yard line of Superdome in New Orleans. Not even standing in line at a convenience store to buy a winning lottery ticket appealed to me. I'd already won the lottery, and she was sleeping soundly beside me.

I'd been debating the right thing to do for half an hour. Waking her and leaving without waking her seemed equally inappropriate. We needed to talk, that much I knew, but when was the socially acceptable time to expect someone to have a potentially important conversation with you? Call me crazy, but I was pretty sure it wasn't while she was naked and hung over, curled around a likewise naked and hung over man whom she may or may not regret sleeping with.

Three times.

Yes, three times.

When I said last night was perfect, I'd meant perfect.

After our romp on the counter, she lured me into her room. Mind you, I was entirely willing; just one little flick of her finger was all it took. When she giggled and ran away as if daring me to chase her, I was already thinking about round two.

Catching her was easy; my legs were damn near as long as she was tall, but I don't think she was trying very hard. I grabbed her and hoisted her over my shoulder, carrying her kicking and screaming to the bedroom. After dropping her on the mattress, I covered her laughing, squirming body with mine and kissed the shit out of her. I couldn't help myself. She was vivacious and adorable and so completely sexy. Any man with half a brain would have done the same thing.

Even though my mind was raring to go, my body was nowhere near ready to have sex a second time. While I gave it time to recover, I made the most of the refractory period by exploring Bella. I was like a kid on Christmas morning, and she was my gift. I wanted to take her apart and put her back together, to figure out what every part of her did. Her reactions fascinated me; each tiny noise and movement my touch affected. My favorites were the ticklish spot on the back of her right tricep because it was ridiculously cute how hard she tried not to giggle, the way she'd press her body into mine when I ran my hand behind her knee, and how she shuddered when I kissed her lower back, right at the base of her spine.

Our second union completely blew me away. The sex was slow and sensual, the epitome of intimate. I'd never known a connection so pure. It felt like we were the only two people in the universe. I'd never been one of those hokey, touchy-feely people who thought of sex as a spiritual experience, but with Bella it was different. The emotion between us was overwhelming in the best way—encompassing and channeled and over-the-top intense.

The third time happened in the middle of the night, when Bella caressed my cheek while I was sleeping. I reached for her and pulled her closer, and one thing led to another. Now that the floodgates were open, it was like I was incapable of staying away from her. One touch made me want two. Even after we'd just finished having sex, and we both should have been sated, I wanted to start the whole process over again.

She was intoxicating—a glass of a fine, rare cognac—and I was an alcoholic.

What do they say about the hair of the dog? I knew without a doubt that she was the only remedy for what ailed me.

Not that I was expecting morning sex. In fact, I'd wasted so much time debating the right course of action that I'd worried myself right out of being able to partake in morning sex, even if she offered it. If I didn't get my ass out of bed and get home to shower pronto, I was going to be late for work. Bella was totally worth the reprimand, but I figured the sooner I was finished work, the sooner I could get back to her. It was kind of a miracle that I'd had twenty-four hours off in a row to begin with. I didn't want to get on my attending's bad side and risk getting every shitty shift possible.

My flip-flopping about waking her up had sealed my fate with respect to leaving. There wasn't enough time to have a decent conversation with her, so I wasn't going to wake her when I had to rush off. I wasn't going to slip away with no communication though. I was going to give her a taste of her own medicine.

_Now it's your turn for a note._

_Last night was amazing. If I didn't have to work, I'd still be in bed beside you. _

_I had a hell of a time deciding whether to wake you. In the end, it just seemed cruel not to let you sleep when you had no place to be. I hope you're dreaming of me._

_There are a hundred things I want to say, but for the sake of saving the world's forests, I'll keep this brief. _

_You promised me I had a chance with you when we were sober. I'm holding you to that promise. _

_And if I'm not mistaken, you indicated in your last note that you wouldn't be finished with me until the box was empty. By my count, I have at least nine more chances with you._

_I'm off at ten. Wait up for me?_

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><p><strong>AN**: Yeah for hitting an update on time! "…it's a small kind of accomplishment, I suppose." ~Jane Austen, _Pride and Prejudice_. Sorry, I watched the movie last night. It always makes me swoon. :D

I'm hoping to update tomorrow, but if not tomorrow, Sunday for sure.

To anyone who's left a review, **thank you**. I don't expect it, but it's wonderful encouragement.

And thanks to everyone for reading. I hope you're enjoying it.


	13. Deck The Halls

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I own the Twilight soundtrack. It was the first digital purchase I ever made, and only because I wanted the bonus track. I'm old school when it comes to buying music. I want the case and the liner notes, and the artwork. My god, the artwork. It's like having my own private art collection. **

**For those who are curious, the quote I made intentional reference to in chapter 12 was the cognac line. I thought about the 'heroin-addict' reference and wanted something a little different.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Deck The Halls<strong>

If I had any regrets about my night with Bella, it was my state of inebriation, and regret was kind of a strong word for it. I would have preferred we'd both been sober, but I didn't regret anything that happened between us. Then again, things might have unfolded differently if we'd been sober. When I'd arrived at Bella's apartment for dinner, she was my little sister's best friend and definitely off-limits. After a glass of wine, her beauty was impossible to deny. Three glasses made staring at her feel like the most natural thing in the world. By the time I'd finished five glasses, keeping my hands to myself was an active struggle akin to torture. I'd like to think it wouldn't have taken all that alcohol to come to my senses about her, but I'd missed so many signs along the way that I should probably write an open letter to California winemakers to thank them for their help.

Of course, if we'd been sober, I wouldn't be fretting over our pending conversation. We would have talked about a potential relationship and expectations and all of the other things two people normally discuss before jumping into bed together. The only prudence I'd managed was making an inebriated girl promise to consider me as potential boyfriend material at some future date when she was sober. Not exactly the pinnacle of forethought or diligence.

I stood there staring at the cell phone in my hand with my stomach in knots, debating the merits of a phone call versus a text. There was always the option of knocking on her door, except the thought of a face-to-face rejection was humiliating. It wasn't that I was expecting to be shot down, but I was nervous as hell. It had taken me all day to figure out why I was so worked up about talking to Bella, but the reason itself was simple. I wanted her in my life, and even though technically she wasn't mine yet, I was already afraid to lose her.

I decided a text was the lowest pressure option. She could reply when she had time, so I wasn't forcing her to talk to me before she was ready. l hastily typed the message, asking whether she had time to talk. She answered in moments, telling me she was free and offering to come over. I was pretty sure I didn't want home-field advantage in this situation. If things didn't go the way I wanted them to, I wanted the prerogative to leave so I could lick my wounds in private. I sent a reply to tell her I'd come to her as soon as I grabbed a shower.

Fifteen minutes later I was on her porch, fighting the urge to knock quietly so I wouldn't be heard. Being courageous with my heart was the scariest thing I'd ever done, and I was beginning to freak out.

My fear was needless, as it turned out. As soon as I knocked, Bella yanked the door open and jumped into my arms.

"I was scared it was all a dream," she whispered, tightening her arms around my neck. "Then I read your note, and I knew it was."

I sighed loudly, relief coursing through me as soon as I felt her against me. "I'm here… for as long as you want me, I'm here." It was a foolishly sentimental thing to say to reassure her, but I would have promised her the moon if that was what it took to make her feel better. It was also how I felt. I had every intention of being with her if she'd have me.

"How does forever sound?" she asked with a nervous laugh, shyly looking away from me.

"Does that mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

She squealed in delight, actually squealed, and it was the best sound of my day. I tightened my grip on her waist and spun her around, laughing joyously.

After I put her back on her feet, she asked, "Do you have time to come in?"

"You haven't answered my question," I teased. "I don't speak squeal."

She blushed the most beautiful shade of pink and answered, "Yes, Edward, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Good. Now that that's settled, can we get off the porch? It's kind of rude to make your guest stand out in the cold."

We cuddled up on her couch and talked about things. It was kind of ridiculous how happy I felt knowing she was mine. It's not as if the label would make having a relationship any easier. Long hours and crazy schedules were only the beginning. But instead of feeling like we had an up-hill battle ahead of us, she made me feel hopeful, like somehow we'd figure it all out. She just had a way about her and it put me at ease.

Condom number four was used before I could leave for the night. I'd tried to be a gentleman, but Bella had other plans. Each argument I offered for leaving—that I wasn't expecting to get physical with her after the night before or that I couldn't stay the night because I had an early shift—was countered by her version of persuasive debate: the removal of a piece of her clothing. My sincerest reason—that she'd already given me more than enough by agreeing to go out with me—was all but ignored. She walked away from me and went straight into her bedroom, tossing her bra and panties into the hallway. A man can only fight so hard to do the right thing, especially when what he really wants to do is give in.

I'm no martyr.

Even if I were, when I found her on all fours in the middle of the mattress with her naked ass pushed high in the air, any martyrish tendencies I may have had flew out the window. For the sake of candor, it was the first time I'd seen my girlfriend's naked body while I was sober. I could hardly be held accountable for my lack of control.

In the end, Bella got exactly what she wanted. I even stayed the night, setting the alarm on my watch to wake me a six so I wouldn't be late for work. I could see it was going to be hard to deny her anything she asked for, especially when it was something as simple as my company, and falling asleep with her in my arms wasn't exactly a hardship. It was pretty close to the best feeling in the world, and I told her so.

_Hey, sleepyhead. You're getting another note today because I refuse to wake you when you're sleeping so soundly. You sort of said goodbye and asked me not to go, anyway. Did you know you talk in your sleep?_

_Thank you for convincing me to stay last night. Between your warmth and the smell of your hair, falling asleep with you next to me is quickly becoming one of my favorite things. I'll have to be careful not to wear out my welcome._

_Let me take you out tonight. A nice dinner, maybe a little dancing? Anything as long as we're fully clothed. I'm beginning to think you want me just for sex._

_That was a joke. I know it's not just about the sex for you. For the record, it's not about that for me, either. Although you are pretty fantastic in the sack. And I only have eight guaranteed chances left with you. _

_Seven o'clock, sharp. Don't be late. I'll be the one sitting in the silver Volvo _in the suit, _waiting for his beautiful girlfriend._

_~your boyfriend_

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><p><strong>AN**: Back to the grind tomorrow. I'm not sure what my update schedule will be this week, but I'm aiming for Tuesday.

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing and recommending this story. It makes me so happy that you're enjoying it.

Until next time…


	14. O Come All Ye Faithful

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, not me. I've typed that phrase 14 times and only now realized that you could infer the meaning: Stephenie Meyer doesn't own me. Hahahahaha. Well, she doesn't, but I meant I don't own Twilight. I guess I should rethink that sentence, no?**

**I lifted another quote from the book and fit in the idea/some of the quote. Can you find it?**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: O Come All Ye Faithful<strong>

Our dinner date was fantastic; a perfect meal and fabulous conversation, but my favorite part of the night was the dancing. Bella was reluctant to try because she felt she was too clumsy. Not only did I prove her wrong, leading her around the dance floor was a heady experience. The way we moved together was virtually indescribable. It was more than instinct. Her body affected mine, and mine affected hers. She was like my Earth, and I orbited her like a moon in synchronous revolution. There was something almost magical about it.

She was stunning in her sapphire dress with her long hair flowing down her back. Her grace and beauty captured the attention of every man in the restaurant. I couldn't blame them for noticing, but instead of feeling jealous or possessive, I just felt lucky to be the guy she'd chosen.

It didn't hurt that I was able to touch her whenever I felt the need, just to remind myself that she was real and mine.

With Bella on my arm, I felt like I could take on the entire world.

When she invited me to go upstairs, I politely refused. She seemed worn out, and I had a sneaking suspicion she only offered because she was putting what she thought were my needs ahead of her own. I didn't want her to think she had put sex on the table to keep me coming around. I enjoyed her company, regardless of what we spent the time doing. The fact that she didn't try very hard to coax me upstairs after I said no, told me my suspicion was probably right.

I was sure I'd done the right thing, until I climbed into my cold, empty bed. Sleeping next to her was a far preferable choice to not being with her at all. If I'd thought to ask her to sleepover, I could have taken care of her and shown her how much I wanted to be with her at the same time. Next time I would do better.

Bella had a friend coming to stay with her for a few days, so we didn't see much of each other for the rest of the week. We exchanged text messages when we could, but even that wasn't easy since I couldn't carry my cell phone on me at work. I missed her terribly after only one day. By the end of seventy-two hours, I was considering climbing through her window while she slept, just so I could see her face. Despite realizing how irrational I was being, the intensity of my longing remained unchanged. She was the only thing I wanted.

As I lay in my bed, exhausted but unable to sleep, it was crystal clear that I was falling for her.

Hard.

**~8~**

The next morning I left a note taped to her door. It was too early to phone her, plus I knew talking to her would only make the longing to see her more acute. Sure, I could have sent a text or email, but notes were kind of our thing. It just felt right.

_If I don't see you today, I think I may die of a broken heart. I'm a doctor, so I know what I'm talking about. Just give me five minutes of face time, please? I'll even promise to keep my hands to myself if that will persuade you. Just be forewarned that the previously delineated condition does not include my lips. It's been eighty-seven hours since I kissed you. You wouldn't deny a dying man a kiss, would you?_

I was anxious and irritable waiting for her to respond. I even broke protocol and kept my damn phone on me all day, so I'd be able to get her reply instantly. It just didn't come. Halfway through the day, I went ahead and called her but got no answer. Three texts and an email later—I was nothing if not thorough—I was going out of my mind. In some ways I think it's natural to be kind of cynical in a situation like this, to assume the worst when you have no idea why someone isn't getting back to you, but I'd taken it to new levels. In my mind, she'd packed up and left town, never to be heard from again.

Since procrastinating wasn't my style, I decided to track her down and make her talk to me after work. If she'd changed her mind about us, I'd rather rip off the bandage in one fast, painful pull.

Time was dragging by, so I hit the Starbucks across the street. Caffeine was probably the worst thing I could ingest in my already anxious state, but I needed the distraction. My coffee was half-gone by the time I made it back to the doctor's lounge. The rest disappeared in long sips as I stared out the window and tried to mentally prepare for my conversation with Bella.

"Cullen, are you going back on the floor when your break's done or would you rather write summaries?" I turned around and saw Dr. Hayes staring expectantly at me.

"Whichever," I answered noncommittally. "Why?"

"I'd rather take the floor, if you don't mind," she answered.

"Suit yourself. Just tell Gerandy so he knows what we're both doing." She nodded and left.

I grabbed the stack of folders from the nurses' station and brought them back to the lounge, prepared to drown in charts for the next couple of hours. Luckily I was good at picking out the details that my attending found important, so helping him prepare for his portion of weekly Grand rounds was an easy task.

A few minutes later, I was caught off guard when two warm hands cover my eyes. I'd been so engrossed in reading that I hadn't heard the door open.

"Miss me?" she whispered.

Between the shock of her unexpected appearance and my fear about why she'd stayed away in the first place, I panicked and lashed out at her. "I don't know what would have given you that idea. Oh, that's right: the fact that I spent the whole fucking day trying to get a hold of you."

Her hands dropped from my face instantly. I whipped my head around to look at her, noticing the way she paled when our eyes met.

"I'm sorry I missed your call and texts."

"I've been going crazy, Bella. How hard would it have been to send me one quick text? Even if it was just to say you'd get in touch with me later."

"I drove Angie to the airport so she could catch her flight and while we were waiting-"

"Obviously I mistook this thing between us for something more serious than it is. At least it was serious for me…"

"You think you're alone in this?" she asked acrimoniously, her expression hard. "That's rich, Edward. Yeah, I don't feel a thing for you. I snuck around for the past two weeks planting notes and gifts, all but begging you to notice I was even alive, but I don't care for you at all."

I knew she was being sarcastic, but her words still stung. I guess underneath all my bravado, I was afraid this was all one big sexual game to her.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right." I tried to take her hand, but she pulled it out of my reach. It was nothing less than I deserved for yelling at her the way I had, but I didn't like it. "It's just that we haven't really talked much the past few days, and when you didn't get back to me, I panicked and assumed you were avoiding me. It was stupid." I scrubbed my face with my hand, feeling like a moron for letting my fear of losing Bella corrupt my sense of reasoning.

"Angie and I got our phones mixed up. She didn't realize she had mine until after she boarded her flight. She called me right away, but I was driving, so I didn't answer. I realized I had the wrong phone as soon as I got home and tried to retrieve the message. So I drove back to the airport to exchange phones with her, and waiting with her for the next flight seemed like the least I could do, since she missed her flight for me."

"Oh, fuck," I muttered.

"I only got your messages a little while ago. I didn't text you back because I figured you wouldn't have your phone anyway. I thought coming directly here to see you was a better plan."

"Oh, fuck. I'm such an asshole."

"Why would you think I was avoiding you?" she asked incredulously.

"Temporary insanity?" I joked, hoping to make her laugh and lighten the tense atmosphere. "I wasn't thinking straight. This thing between us is so, so unexpected. It's completely pulled the rug out from under me."

She offered me a tiny smile, but her eyes were still sad. "After everything I've said and done, you can't really believe that you care for me more than I do for you."

"Not exactly, but you seem to be handling things better than me. I wasn't prepared for the intensity, and I guess I was so blinded by it that I couldn't imagine you were feeling as swept away by us as I've felt."

She closed the distance between us, laying her palm on my chest. "So swept away," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I never meant to discount your feelings. And I'm a douchebag for yelling at you."

"You are," she agreed with a grin. "But I know a way you can make it up to me."

She fisted my shirt and pulled me towards her waiting mouth. The ninety-five hours without her melted away the moment our lips connected, replaced by relief and elation and peace and desire and so many other positive emotions.

I was in over my head, but I wasn't alone. She was right there with me.

Scrubs made for easy access, and Bella came prepared with condom number five tucked safely in the pocket of her skirt. As it turned out, denim skirts made for easy access too. I was thankful for lockable doors, my girlfriend's ability to forgive her situationally insane boyfriend, and the skill of muffling screams with my mouth. Even more, I was grateful for her—for every little bit she gave and all of the things she accepted, her understanding and patience, her never-ending kisses—for finally getting more than five minutes of face time with her, for having someone to miss so much that it made me lose all sense, and for our fragile but unbroken hearts.

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><p><strong>AN**: Big miss on the update goal. :( I had trouble getting this chapter right.

My old friend Christy emailed me to say hi and mentioned she'd seen the story rec'd at the Perv Pack Smut Shack. Thanks for the recommendation, ladies!

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.


	15. It Came Upon The Midnight Clear

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I re-hung my Eclipse calendar today when I rearranged my desk today. Any guesses which picture I put up? You're right, because the meadow picture was the only decent picture in the whole calendar. **

**The quote from the last chapter was reworked from the quote: "Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?", which was spoken by our dear Edward in chapter ten.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: It Came Upon The Midnight Clear<strong>

We rang the New Year in together. Instead of letting Bella cook like she wanted to, I invited her to my place. I took the recommendations of the guy at the deli and assembled an antipasto platter. I bought way too much food—salami, prosciutto, smoked peppered turkey breast, brie, marinated artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, melon, walnuts, stuffed olives, aged cheddar, and crusty bread—but I wanted to spoil Bella with as many of her favorite things as I could remember.

For dessert we attempted to bake a chocolate soufflé together. Watching Bella beat the egg whites was a religious experience. Hot didn't begin to cover it. I tried to convince her to do it naked, but when that failed—she said bare skin and hot stoves didn't mix—I sprinkled confectioner's sugar all over her top, knowing she'd freak out and take it off. I spent the next thirty minutes proving to her that bare skin in the kitchen was a delicious combination, by dripping leftover soufflé batter on her body and licking it off. Though I managed to pull the soufflé out of the oven on time, it was pretty deflated by the time we got around to trying it.

All night I fought the urge to drag her into the bedroom. One word from me was all it would have taken. She was so in the moment, electrified by everything around her and living in the joy each second offered her. It was hard to be a bystander knowing that energy was mine to have and the direct effect it had on me when we were joined. It had the power to transform me, to save, heal, fulfill, and deliver me. I coveted the feeling—only she could give it to me—sure that she had no idea how under her thumb I was.

I didn't make the countdown, pouncing on her like a hungry mountain lion does a helpless fawn, around eleven thirty. Even though I wasn't looking at the clock at precisely midnight, I'm sure I was kissing her when it struck twelve. There was very little time I wasn't kissing her until well into the wee hours of the morning.

Being in my bed with her for the first time had some _je ne sais quoi_ about it that swallowed me whole in an entirely new way. I saw snapshots of the future—our future—and it was totally surreal to understand how badly I wanted the things I saw. She was completely unaware that the breathless, emotional mess I was when I came had to do with something other than the way she touched me.

Someday, I planned to tell her.

**~8~**

January brought change to the fragile, perfect bubble we'd been living in. On top of finishing her postgraduate work, Bella was teaching a class during the winter semester, so her free time was much more limited. Combined with my chaotic schedule, we saw less and less of each other.

Off-hour knocks were born from loneliness and need; doors were left unlocked in hope. We were more like two ships passing in the night, climbing into bed while the other was asleep or leaving before the other was awake. If not for comfort of her warm body, there were times I would have doubted I even had a girlfriend.

Days turned into weeks that were rushed through. The rare respites we had were spent chasing the emotional connection we both missed. Bella was flustered and unhappy, and touching her was the only way I knew to make her feel better with the limited time we had. I missed her like crazy, but I resigned myself to just get through the semester. Complaining about not seeing her would only put more pressure on her, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Decisions about my future weighed heavily on me, as I considered which fellowships to apply for. Unlike some of my coworkers, my skills didn't limit my options. More than one specialty was already trying to recruit me, even though my surgical residency was not yet completed.

We passed into the second week of February in requisite selfishness, independently trying to accomplish the tasks in our busy schedules. I had to work the better part of the day and all evening on Valentine's Day, so we made plans to celebrate on the thirteenth; nothing big, just dinner and a movie at Bella's place.

I was late getting there because of complications during an emergency surgery on a burst appendix. The volume on Bella's stereo was turned up pretty loud, so my knock on her door went unanswered. I went into my apartment and called her, hoping the sound of the phone ringer would be heard over the music. She didn't pick up. I sent her a text to tell her I was home and asked her to phone me when she got my message.

Optimizing the downtime, I snuck in a quick shower. It wasn't until I shut off the water that I heard Bella's muffled sobs. I instantly panicked and checked my phone. She'd replied to my text, explaining she wasn't feeling well and had to cancel our plans. I sent her another message asking if I could see her, but she refused, saying that she wasn't feeling up to company. I knew something was up, but I couldn't fix things until I got her to talk to me. Unfortunately, no amount of knocking, phoning, texting or begging through her locked door could make that happen.

She was stubborn—that much I knew—but I wasn't going to let her feel bad when it was probably my lateness that had upset her in the first place.

I knew she was going to be angry with me for overstepping my bounds, but she'd left me with no choice. I let myself into her apartment with the landlord key. The smells of dinner—roast beef, baked bread and something else I couldn't place—assaulted my nose as soon as I opened the door and instantly informed me that her tears were entirely my fault. She'd cooked my favorite meal to surprise me, and my lateness had fucked up her plan.

I found her face down on her bed, softly crying.

"Bella," I said quietly, hoping to avoid startling her.

"Get out," she whined from underneath the mess of tangled hair covering her face.

"I'm sorry I was late, baby. I got caught in surgery."

"I don't care. Go away!"

My mistake was getting bigger by the minute. Bella was dressed to the nines in a plum silk wrap dress and heels. She'd even worn stockings—something she hated, which I perpetually asked her to do because of how much they turned me on. Thigh highs, no less; I could see the lace peeking out below the hem of her dress where it had risen up. What I had seen as a quiet dinner at home was obviously a much bigger deal to her than I'd realized.

"Dinner smells great."

She covered her head with her arms to hide her face from me. "Fuck you!" she spat, letting the spark I adored so much, surface.

Better she gave me that than no emotion at all.

I laid the bouquet of flowers I'd bought near her face, knowing they were likely to be her next victim. "I brought you some flowers… blue hydrangeas… they reminded me of you in your sapphire dress on our first date."

She seized the flowers by the stems and threw them across the room to spite me. "I don't want your hydrangeas or your company. Just get out!"

"I'm sorry I screwed up your surprise because I was late. But you know it wasn't on purpose. Unfortunately it's part of my job right now," I said quietly.

"Fine, you're sorry. It doesn't change anything. I still don't want you here."

"I'm not going to let you push me away."

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered.

Her words stopped me dead, and I was sure in that moment that my heart would never beat again, if I couldn't get her to take them back.

"You don't mean that." I could be sure enough for both of us. There was no way I could accept the alternative, anyway.

"I haven't seen you with your eyes open for almost two weeks. We're both so busy that we never have any time for us. We don't talk or hang out or do any of the normal things that couples do. We fuck and sleep, Edward. That's it. The human race concocted an entire holiday for lovers and we can't even get _that_ right. The universe is trying to tell us something."

For the first time in my life I appreciated a woman's tears as I watched them stream down Bella's face. If she had tears, she was hurting, and if she was hurting, she had to care for me. There was no other reason to be upset. If she truly wanted to let me go, her eyes would have been dry.

"We may not be perfect, Bella, but we're right."

I let my fingers run gently along her arm, ignoring the way she flinched away from the contact.

"Please don't touch me," she begged. "I can't stay angry with you, if you touch me, and I need the anger. It hurts too much without it."

Against her wishes, I crawled into bed behind her body and spooned her. If I was going down, I was going down in flames. "I can't give you what you're asking for. I love you too much to let you go."

She rolled over to face me, looking absolutely shocked. "You… love me?" she asked.

"Is that so hard to believe?" She looked at me for a moment before she started to tear up again. "Look, I know our relationship hasn't exactly been conventional, but I'd rather have our fuck-and-sleep contact than not have you in my life. That's not to say I can't try harder. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you beside me. This is it for me, Bella… That life-altering, never-going-back, single-focus-of-my-world kind of feeling, that's you. Just tell me what to do."

"I love… I love you… too," she sputtered, looking into my chest as if the feeling was too big to admit to my face.

"Thank God," I mumbled, laughing in relief. I planted a soft kiss on her forehead then tilted her face up so she had to look at me. "Now for the sake of my very fragile ego, please stop crying. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you, so just stop this shit right now, ok?" I swiped my thumbs under her eyes to dry her tears, staring back at her with more determination than I'd ever felt before.

I loved her, and for some unfathomable reason, she loved me back. That was more than enough me.

I didn't want to just say the words. As cliché as it was, I needed to show her how much I loved her. Condom numbers six, seven, and eight were exhausted that night. If fucking was the only way we communicated, I made good and sure that Bella got my message loud and clear. And since repetition was the best way to learn a lesson, I repeated the message a second and third time. In this particular case, I don't think there was such a thing as being too thorough. We were in love, after all.

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><p><strong>AN**: How did I do on the I-love-yous?

Thank you to those of you who are still here reading and reviewing. I appreciate the support more than you know.

The next update will probably be Friday. See you then. :)


	16. If Every Day Could Be Christmas

**A/N: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I do own the terrible delay in posting this chapter and my exceptional ability to overthink things to the point of incapacitation.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: If Every Day Could Be Christmas<strong>

If February was about admitting our feelings to each other, March was about honoring those feelings. I made sure we found time to hang out, even if that meant getting two less hours of sleep so we could go out to dinner or trading shifts at work so our schedules matched better. I gave Bella a key to my apartment so she could stay with me when she needed me, but not before making sure she understood that coming over was on her terms. I didn't expect her to conform to my schedule or be at my beck and call. I just wanted her to know that my life was open to her and that I would gratefully accept her in it, in any way she wanted to take part.

I'd been single-minded about my future for so long that I thought it would be hard to change. It wasn't. Bella was in my thoughts all the time anyway, so retraining myself to consider her feelings was almost seamless. Seeing her happy was enough of a payoff, but the happier she was, the more she opened herself to me. That was the true gift, and not one I'd ever take for granted again.

I decided I would surprise her with something special, planned just with her in mind, at least once a month. I wanted her to know how important she was to me and how she'd changed my world for the better. My happiness was tied to her now, so working a little harder to make sure she was taken care of was not just my job, it was my honor.

I kept up with our notes, too. Sometimes I found it easier to write down things I couldn't find the courage to say out loud.

**~8~**

_**Friday, March 16**__**th**__**, 2012: **__I know I told you already, but you were stunning in the green dress you wore to the theater. I'm almost embarrassed to admit how little of the play I watched. I just couldn't take my eyes off of you. Shakespeare's got nothing on you, baby. But I didn't need the actors on stage to tell me the story when I could watch it reflected in your beautiful face. The horrified look in your eyes when Hamlet repudiated Ophelia, the tears you cried when Ophelia died, your anger towards Gertrude and Claudius, and especially your compassion for Hamlet when he realized his mistakes and what he'd lost. I love that you can become so embroiled in a plot that you see the characters as your friends._

**~8~**

**Monday, April 23****rd****, 2012**: _The smile on your face when you were speaking to the author at the book signing we attended was worth the irritation of the hour-long traffic jam we got caught in. I'd wait through a thousand traffic jams just to see it again. I don't think I've ever seen you happier. At least until I got you home and tucked you into bed. The gratitude in your smile could have lit up the entire city. I'm so lucky to have you in my life._

**~8~**

**Saturday, May 5****th****, 2012**: _Despite hating every moment of ice skating, you laughed your way through it like a champion. You're amazing. Admittedly, my favorite part was warming you up after the fact. The way your skin glowed in the firelight took my breath away. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get enough of you. In moments like that, I know I never will._

**~8~**

**Wednesday June 20****th****, 2012**: _You're upstairs with my sister and friends, throwing me the most amazing surprise party anyone's ever had. I can't get over how thoughtful you are. Me? I'm selfish, sneaking away for a moment to myself and trying to get the picture of you in that pencil skirt out of my brain. It's your fault really. I brought you to the library to show you my favorite Dr. Seuss book as a kid. You're the one who took the Kama Sutra book out of the stacks and suggested we book a research room. And I feel like I need to point out that the condom was stashed in your purse. I was only doing as I was told. God, you're sexy when you whisper my name._

**~8~**

**Friday July 6****th****, 2012**: _The awe on your face when they released the butterflies at the zoo today made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Being with you has taught me how to live in the moment, something I'd stopped doing without even realizing it. Thank you for reminding me how to love life again, and for making sure that I stop and smell the roses, especially the ones with black swallowtails._

**~8~**

**Tuesday, August 6****th****, 2012**_: You probably thought I was crazy when I said we were taking the train to nowhere, but it wasn't the destination that mattered. It was giving you my undivided attention while we let the world speed by the windows of the train car. It was having you to myself and not feeling selfish about it. It was being with you, and knowing I was exactly where I should be. I love you._

**~8~**

**Sunday, September 16****th****, 2012**: _Thank you for going away with me this weekend. It was perfect from beginning to end. Floating fifteen hundred feet above the vineyard in that hot air balloon with you in my arms was as close to heaven as I've ever been. And for the record, that palm reader knew what she was talking about. You don't need to look any further than me for true love. Happy birthday, Bella. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. I know it was for me._

**~8~**

**Saturday, September 22****nd****, 2012**: _I told you not to climb that tree, but I also told you I'd be there to catch you when you fell. I guess I held up my end of the bargain. Come to think of it, you probably climbed that tree on purpose just to get into my arms, if the way you attacked me in the car was any indication. If I'd known that picking apples was going to turn you on so much, I would have suggested it much earlier. Hell, I would have booked us a trip to wherever apples were in season. I may have to do some research on global apple production and ripening schedules. I don't think I'll ever look at my back seat the same way again_.

**~8~**

**Thursday, October 18****th****, 2012**: _You gave me such a scare today. Ironically the point of the corn maze was for us to get lost, but we were supposed to do it together, not separately. When I couldn't see or hear you, all I could think about was losing you, and it was __**way too real**__. So I'm sorry if my reaction was over the top when I found you, or if I came on too strong afterwards when I took you to bed. I was afraid, and I needed to prove to myself that you were real and still here and still mine. Sometimes all the words in the world can't convince me of what one touch from you can_.

**~8~**

It took time for Bella and me to hone the give-and-take of our relationship. She slowly learned to trust me with her needs and worries, instead of ignoring them for mine, and I worked on being patient and not jumping to conclusions. There were bumps in the road, but the mistakes were quickly forgiven because we took the time to talk things through, a major priority for us from Valentine's Day onward. Plain and simple, we valued each other and what we had together. She never let a day go by without telling me she loved me, and I made sure to do the same, so she would know that I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Because that's exactly what I was.

And it was all because of her.

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><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading.


	17. Happy Holidays

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I don't even own a Blu-ray of Breaking Dawn yet. I'm behind in everything :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Happy Holidays<strong>

Bella and I were going to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. My normally understated mother was over the moon that I was bringing her home with me. I wasn't really sure what all the fuss was about, to be honest. She'd met Bella before, albeit as Alice's friend, not as my girlfriend, but she'd still met her. I was hoping that her over-the-top attitude wasn't going to make Bella feel uncomfortable. I'd already spoken to Alice for backup, and she'd promised to help me temper our mother's craziness if it became ridiculously excessive.

Bella slept during the flight, and her peacefulness helped to relax me a little. I wasn't sure why the weekend was making me nervous. Bella and I were solid, and my parents liked her, so I wasn't worried about getting their approval. Alice, too, had given her blessing when she found out about us, admitting that she'd always had a feeling that Bella and I would get together. There was really no reason for my anxiety, but I couldn't seem to let it go.

My father insisted on picking us up from the airport. The only reason I agreed to it was because the rental agency had no cars. I felt trapped without a vehicle. Even though I knew my parents would gladly lone us one of theirs, I preferred to have my own—my version of a contingency plan if the weekend turned out to be a terrible idea. Plus it gave me a place to make out with Bella. The notion of stripping my girlfriend bare in my father's Lexus didn't sit right with me, and I hadn't quite figured out how I was going to keep my hands to myself for the next five days. Despite my mom and dad's progressiveness, Bella had already warned me that I wasn't getting any action under my parents' roof because she didn't want them to think badly of her.

We were barely a foot inside the door when my mom descended, swooping past me without so much as a glance. She went straight for Bella, hugging the crap out of her as she prattled on about how happy she was that we were visiting. Bella hugged her back and thanked her for the invitation, while I laughed out loud at my mother's obviousness. Bella glanced over her shoulder at me, smiling to let me know she was fine, and let my mom lead her into the living room.

I left them to catch up, bringing our bags upstairs and getting Bella a glass of wine before I rejoined them. My nerves were still very much present and screwing with me. Ironically, screwing was the only thing I'd thought about since setting foot in my old bedroom, the object of my mother's latest redecorating project. Rather than being the time warp back to my eighteen-year-old life that I'd been expecting, my bedroom had the feel of a luxury hotel room. Hotel rooms made me think of my weekend away with Bella and making love to her in the absurdly enormous bed in our suite. Bella's warnings about me not getting any for the next five days were still rolling around in my brain, only serving to make me want it all the more. So any way you cut it, I had sex on the brain.

The day passed in small talk and well wishes, thanks to a boatload of unexpected visitors. Clearly my mother's big mouth had spread the word that I'd brought my girlfriend home, and everyone had come by to check her out. With Bella occupied meeting people, I spent a lot of time watching her. She was flawless in her attention, keeping names and stories straight that even I wasn't positive about, and her ever-present smile lit up the room. I longed for bedtime just to have her to myself. If it were up to her, I wouldn't have even had that. It took me thirty minutes to convince her to sleep in the same bed as me. It was sweet, and she was adorable in her embarrassment, but I wanted to shake her for being so silly. My parents were more likely to think something was up if we _didn't _share a bed, not to mention that I just wanted to be near her. Besides, there was no way to tease her about the blue balls she'd given me if she wasn't in my bed. Turnabout was fair play considering she was the cause, and I didn't intend to make it easy on her. Sleeping with my hard-on pressed into her ass cheeks sounded like the perfect way to push her buttons and mine.

Thanksgiving Day was one long eat-fest. Bella was in the kitchen as much as my mother allowed, helping with the cooking while I loaded and unloaded the dishwasher. Every time I saw her face light up when my mother shared a recipe or heard her laugh at some embarrassing family story, my stomach thumped with butterflies. The effect she had on me was ridiculous, especially after almost eleven months together, but it was no less overwhelming than last December. If anything it was more controlling, because of how much she'd come to mean to me.

We took our places at the table when my mother announced that dinner was ready, watching as she brought the turkey in. My father stood up in preparation to carve the bird, making room for mom to set it down in front of him. It was the same thing we'd done for as long as I could remember, Alice across from me, my father at the head of the table with my mother opposite to him. Bella was the only change to the scene, but she fit right in, like the chair she sat in had always been there waiting for her to fill it.

Like it was meant to be….

Time seemed to stand still suddenly. My breathing faltered, making my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, while my eyes darted around the table and landed back on Bella.

They always came back to Bella.

In every situation.

And I suddenly understood why.

_Because it was meant to be_.

Not just this moment or this day.

_This life_.

The life I'd been dreaming of, the one that had always been _someday_ or _eventually, _had miraculously become_ right now_.

She didn't fit into my life.

_She was my life_.

She was more important than my parents or sister or friends or job; more important than anything else. She was everything. The past, present, and future wrapped up in one tiny package that I loved more than my own life.

I gasped, sucking in the air my body needed to function and forcing out a cough that hopefully disguised the noise. Then I reached for Bella's hand, twining our fingers and letting the warmth of her touch wash over me. She looked up at me and smiled, and I thought I would burst if I didn't share my epiphany. But saying something this big in front of everyone wasn't right, nor was hijacking my mom's hard work. So I kept my mouth shut, my body vibrating with excitement all through the meal. And pie in the living room. And coffee in the kitchen while we washed the dishes for the tenth time that day. Each moment I had to wait felt like an eternity; each second I was closer to exploding than the last. Somehow I managed to contain the revelation, despite its enormity, though I was damn near whining when I pressed Bella to come upstairs with me.

She giggled and smiled in that adorably flirtatious way she had when she was sleepy but all too happy to tease me, and let me lead her to our room.

I pinned her to the closed door with my upper body. My control was hanging on by a thread, and being connected to her helped to center me.

"Who knew that pecan pie made you horny," she said, shaking with silent laughter. "I'll have to remember that for future reference."

"It's not the pie. It's you." My hands were on her hips, my fingertips pushing underneath her sweater in search of skin.

"You know I'm a sucker for you when you're filled up with turkey. That's how this whole thing began, if you recall." Her matter-of-fact tone was an attempt at playful provocation, designed in part to mask her fond recollection of our first night together.

"So the turkey made you take me to bed?"

"I'm pretty sure it was the wine that made me take you to bed, at least that's my story."

"I spent that whole dinner trying to keep my hands off you. Just like tonight…"

"That dinner was designed to make sure you couldn't."

"B-bel-la…" My voice stuttered, thwarted by the endless emotion I'd kept trapped inside me for the past couple of hours. In a futile attempt to calm myself, I buried my face in her hair and inhaled deeply, trying to gather my courage to speak.

"See, if this were Christmas Day, I'd do this." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and let her hands slip into my hair. "And this." Her soft lips brushed against mine with a kiss that was sweet and tender and full of promise. "And this," she whispered, pulling her body up and wrapping her legs around my hips.

Her mouth returned to mine, kissing me with abandon. I groaned and turned us, stumbling blindly towards the bed. Between my revelation and my longing for her, I felt like I'd die if I didn't get to touch her. Once I laid her on the mattress, I pulled my shirt over my head and slid in beside her. "God, I want you."

"Edward, we can't." I could see guilt and regret in her expression—she felt like she'd led me on with her teasing—but I wouldn't let her feel bad for touching me, especially when it was exactly what I wanted.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. "Of course we can. We'll just pretend it _is_ Christmas."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You'd defile our holiday with a lie just to get a little nookie?"

"I'm pretty sure what we did last year already defiled it," I replied with a laugh, remembering how I'd fingered and fucked her on the kitchen counter.

"You take that back," she demanded, pushing at my chest and trying to wiggle out of my grasp. "Without Christmas, there wouldn't be an us."

"There will always be an us," I told her, my voice cracking. "You don't understand. Today at dinner-"

"Christmas gave me courage," she whispered, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. At first I thought she was joking but quickly realized she was entirely serious, wrestling with the gravity of her feelings the same way I was. "So please don't make fun of what it represents to me. Don't you understand that it means everything because it led you to me? It's the most important day of all."

She was too upset to trust the intensity and sincerity of my sentiment, and I wouldn't risk the importance of my question on bad timing. In fact, if she thought Christmas was the most important day in our relationship, I could ensure that it always would be by waiting until then to share my revelation. It wasn't far off, just over a month away. Plus waiting gave me time to make everything perfect. She deserved nothing less.

"It's the most important day of all," I echoed, caressing her cheek with my thumb. Selfishly, I pushed her for more, hoping she needed me in the same way I needed her. "But you know what that means, baby? Since today is Thanksgiving, not Christmas, I can make love to you without debasing the significance of our holiday."

"You'd say anything to get laid." She tried her hardest to keep a straight face, but a smirk broke through.

I shook my head, knowing she didn't understand. "I need you," I whispered. Even if she didn't know what was coming, and I couldn't have forever right at that moment, I needed her touch to prove that I'd have it one day soon. "Please."

I rolled on to my back and pulled her on top of me, hoping she understood from our position that whatever we did from that point on was up to her. I poured everything I felt into my kiss, telling her without words that she meant everything to me. It wasn't my place to force her into something, but I wanted to make good and sure that she knew I was hers for the taking, no matter what she chose to do.

She opened up to the idea slowly, her determination and purpose wavering as she worked though her thoughts. I held back, purposely not reacting to the way my skin heated as she traced my chest with her fingertips or the tension in her body as it brushed against mine, and patiently waited for her decision. It wasn't until she stripped off her sweater that I knew we were on the same page. And I was grateful. Fighting natural instincts didn't make sense to me.

There was nothing more breathtaking than watching her in control on top of me. She undressed us, moving my hands to where she wanted them, commanding me to please her and give her more. Being dominated by her confident, sexual side—knowing every touch I gave was exactly what she wanted—was hot.

After thoroughly teasing both of us, she straddled my hips and rode me. I gripped her so tightly that I'm sure I bruised her, but I was beyond the ability to control my emotions. The most beautiful creature on Earth was naked and riding my cock in my childhood bedroom, and my parents were sleeping down the hallway. To say that I was smug didn't begin to cover how high the situation made me feel.

Her orgasm was so intense that I actually had to clamp my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. I was disappointed we weren't at home where I could have experienced the full, untempered force of it. When she collapsed on top of me, I rolled her over on to her back and gave her a moment to recover before I began to stroke in and out of her. Her heightened state of arousal worked hand-in-hand with my determination, and I made her come a second time just as I found release. My back paid the price of our intensity in nail scratches, along with a bite mark on my shoulder, but it was worth every single iota of pain.

We fell asleep wrapped up in each other, just like it was meant to be.

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><p><strong>AN**: Sorry for the delay. I had a project deadline and a mini-life-explosion.

To those who are still reading: thank you. To those who care to leave a review: thank you from the bottom of my heart for the support.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review.


	18. We All Need A Little Christmas

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. **I do, however, own the wish to complete the story this Christmas season.

It will be the same format as before—short chapters of 1000 words, give or take—and I hope to have it all posted by Christmas. It picks up right where the last one left off and remains in Edward's POV.

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: We Need A Little Christmas<strong>

I'd never considered what a big deal a proposal could be until I began to plan one. My research taught me they could be shockingly extravagant and expensive. I was all for making it romantic and memorable but with a little bit of perspective. Dropping thousands of dollars for an elaborate setup wasn't going to change the question or the answer, and for me, that was what mattered.

I came across a few good ideas, but none of them fit Bella. She hated being the center of attention. Anything public or in front of an audience would ruin the whole thing for her. I preferred my proposal to have an intimate feel anyway, so I had no problem keeping it just between us. The most important thing was making it perfect for her and us.

The date was a no-brainer. Not only was Christmas Bella's favorite time of the year, Christmas Day was our one year anniversary. Popping the question that day just made sense.

The ring was almost as easy. I knew the perfect one as soon as I saw it—a simple white gold band with five brilliant, round diamonds. The raised center stone was a full carat and had two stones on either side of it, each a tenth of a carat. I couldn't wait to see it on her finger.

I liked the idea of somehow incorporating a countdown like she'd done last year, but I was having trouble figuring out how to do that without tipping her off about my plans. We'd never specifically talked about marriage, and I wanted the first mention of it to be from my lips, not a note.

It wasn't until Bella made a joke about being low on condoms that the perfect way to tie everything together popped into my head. Using a gift from her Christmas countdown was an ideal way to continue the tradition. It would allow me to recreate the same racy feel hers had and commemorate our first year together in one easy step. Sure, it would take some creativity on my part, but the better I did my job, the easier it would be to hide the surprise ending from her.

The first note was easy. I simply handed it to her.

"What's this?" she asked curiously.

"See for yourself." I watched the smile on her face grow as she read it.

_When you bought me that box of condoms last year, you promised you wouldn't be finished with me until the box was empty. To me, that was twelve chances to prove I deserved you. So in the spirit of last year, I thought I'd give you my version of a Christmas countdown—counting down the condoms in that box—so you can see how you've changed my world._

_Condom number one was used Christmas Day. You were beautifully distracting spread out for me on the kitchen counter, and I knew something special was happening between us the moment I felt your fingertips on my skin. It was like being touched for the first time, like being lit on fire from the inside out. What I didn't know was just how amazing we would become_.

She looked at me once she was finished. The mischievous glint in her eyes told me she was definitely onboard with my game.

**xxx**

Bella was fast asleep in my bed by the time I got home from work, and I was so thankful to find her there. Feeling the warmth of her skin and the gentle curve of her body against me was the only way I was going to get over the shitty day I'd had. Before sliding in next to her, I slipped the second note onto the nightstand, tucking it under her phone to ensure she'd find it in the morning. Then I pulled Bella close and let my day melt away.

She'd gotten used to how tightly I held her while I slept, but she still hadn't come up with a way to disentangle herself from my arms that didn't awaken me. I didn't really want her to. Those quiet goodbyes—loving words and gentle kisses—were often my favorite moments of the day, and that morning was no exception. I watched her read my note, beaming with pride when it made her shiver. It was such a fantastic memory.

_Christmas Day also saw the demise of condom number two. Still far from sober, I remember stripping you out of your corset and panties thinking you'd be less distracting naked. I'd never been more wrong. I took my time and learned every inch of you, enthralled by the way I could make you react to my touch. I didn't know intimacy like that was possible, or understand how our emotions could already be in sync, but somehow they were_.

"You're killing me with these notes," she admitted, turning to look at me with flushed cheeks.

"I want you to know how much you mean to me."

She crawled over to me and straddled my hips, pressing her lips to mine with urgency, with desperation. When my kiss didn't go far enough to soothe her, our bodies connected, working together with practiced precision to find release. We'd certainly had plenty of time to perfect the quickie, but it was more than that. It was giving and taking in all the right ways without having to think about it—natural and easy like breathing.

When Bella left to shower and change, I realized that surprising her with the third note would require a little bit of cheating. Our conflicting schedules threatened to derail my timeline, so I did the only thing I could think of. I stashed the envelope in her purse and then hid her purse under a blanket. Bella got a little flustered when she couldn't find it, so I offered to drive her to work and pointed out that Rosalie, whom she had plans with that evening, would happily give her a ride home.

Before heading in for my night shift, I put her purse back in her apartment so she'd find it when she returned from her night out. I was betting that she wouldn't discover the note until after midnight, but just to cover my bases, I quickly scribbled directions on the outside of the envelope, saying that it shouldn't be opened until the sixteenth.

_We used condom number three on Boxing Day. Even though I was dead asleep when you stroked my cheek, I instinctively knew you needed me. I was incoherently tired and still mildly tipsy, but there wasn't a part of me that could have denied you. I knew right then and there that I'd always give you anything you asked for_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Everyone on-board and keeping up? If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask.

I'd love to hear what you think of Edward's idea and efforts so far.

Thanks for reading.


	19. Silver Bells

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I own a Tim Horton's coffee, which I'm currently drinking, and a sore thumb.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Silver Bells<strong>

Bella and I met at the restaurant for our dinner date a couple of days later. I left the fourth note at her seat so she'd find it as soon as she arrived. Instead of waiting at the table, I watched the scene unfold from the bar. Seeing her walk into a room fucked with me in the best way, especially when I hadn't seen her all day. She could level me with her beauty without really trying, but knowing she'd dolled herself up just for me stripped me of my defenses entirely. There was always a second of raw possessiveness when I saw her. It gave way to desire as soon as our eyes met. The way she looked at me, with so much love and happiness, never failed to remind me just how lucky I was that she was mine.

It took everything in me to stay rooted in my spot when she swept into the room in silver Dupioni silk, her hair pulled up off her neck in an intricate twist. She was absolutely flawless. The tiny smile that played on her lips when she saw the envelope was one of my favorites, one she reserved for only me. The blush that followed was quintessential Bella.

_When I left you sleeping after our first night together, I worried all day that you'd regret what happened and that you wouldn't give me the chance to prove I was worthy of you in the cold light of day. I was so relieved to be wrong. Your striptease nullified every reason not to stay that night, and finding you on all fours on the bed ensured that condom number four was a done deal. But I'll tell you a secret: every cell in my body already wanted you, long before you removed a single piece of clothing. It was also the first time I'd seen you naked while I was sober, and I knew right then and there that you were the most beautiful gift I'd ever receive_.

I waited for the champagne to be delivered, and made my way over to her.

**xxx**

After Bella left for work the next morning, I headed over to my buddy's house to borrow one of his uniforms so I could hand deliver Bella's fifth note dressed as a FedEx man. She didn't have any idea it was me until I laid the familiar envelope down on the paper she was reading. She gave a tiny gasp and looked up at me. It only took a moment before her signature blush stained her cheeks.

_I was a bastard that day, and you still used condom number five with me on the last Friday of 2011. Not seeing you for almost four days drove me crazy but also made me realize I was falling so, so hard for you. I didn't deserve your forgiveness or your love, but you freely gave me both, in the doctor's lounge, no less. No matter what I did, I couldn't pull you close enough to dull the ache. I gave you everything I had, but it was pathetically inadequate to show you how grateful I was for you. Sometimes it feels like it still is._

She agreed to let me take her to lunch but insisted I leave the uniform on. I had no idea that my costume was going to spark the idea of role-playing in our relationship, but I was all for it.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter. Knowing you're still excited about the story felt great! I appreciate the support.

Hit me with your questions if you have any.


	20. The Day That Love Began

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I own an undiagnosed illness and cold toes.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20: The Day That Love Began<strong>

Finding hydrangeas in December was easier than I expected it to be. I flip-flopped about buying them more times than I could count, worried they would trigger some of the negative memories from that night. In the end, they were a part of our history, good or bad, and I found it impossible not to think of Bella whenever I saw one of the over-sized, blue blooms. I had a large bouquet delivered to Bella with note number six.

_I'm still profoundly sorry for screwing up your early Valentine's Day dinner. Coming so close to losing you that day redefined what fear is to me, but I can't regret what happened. Without my mistake, you might not have told me you loved me, and I needed to hear it almost as much as I needed to say it. Condom number six was spent in a blaze of pent-up emotions. We didn't even remove our clothing. All that mattered was taking away your hurt and giving you my heart for keeps_.

**xxx**

I considered making a grand gesture, but it didn't feel right. Proclaiming my love on a billboard, while romantic, wouldn't really prove anything about my feelings for Bella. In reality, it was the little things that meant the most. Small conscious gestures reassured her and had become the core of strength in our relationship. The _I love yous_, the _thank yous_, the _never-going-to-bed-angrys_ were what made her feel valued and adored. Maybe the sex, too. I could say more with a single touch than a giant billboard could. It was the simple things that made her happy, and that's why I didn't want to make a big deal out of every note.

I slipped the seventh note into her jacket pocket. At some point during the day, she'd reach in and find it, and I knew without a doubt that she'd be smiling when she did.

_Condom number seven was dedicated entirely to the thigh highs you wore on Valentine's Day eve. I stripped you out of your dress as soon as we caught our breath from round one. I couldn't wait to see you in nothing but your stockings. You were exquisite—a vision pulled directly from my fantasies—and all I could think was '_what the fuck did I do to deserve her?_' I still don't have an answer to that question, but I am so freaking glad I did it_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hi. So, remember that sore thumb I complained about? It swelled up like a balloon and turned an angry red, so I spent the better part of Saturday in the emergency room. Did I mention the pain? Anyways, the doctor still isn't sure what's going on. I was x-rayed, given IV meds, and my wrist and hand were splinted in a temporary cast to immobilize the thumb. :( I had to go back in this morning. Swelling and redness have diminished slightly. My hand was re-splinted and here I sit on antibiotics and anti-inflamatories. I'm due again tomorrow for another reassessment, and am waiting on an MRI appointment. What all of this means is slow, one-handed typing. Please be patient with me. I'll get the story up, but it may take longer. Thank you for your understanding.

Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing. I so appreciate the support.


	21. Celebrate Me Home

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I do own LEGO The Lord Of The Rings for the PS3 and a kitchen that needs a heck of a cleaning.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: Celebrate Me Home<strong>

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to peek around me to see for herself.

"None of you business, Ms. Nosey Pants," I replied, blocking her with my hip so she couldn't pass. The element of surprise wasn't exactly on my side, but I didn't have to make things easy for her.

"Did you break the wreath?" She kept her voice neutral, but when I looked over my shoulder, I noticed her mitten-covered hands fidgeting nervously at her hips. I was going to have fun with this.

"Define _break_."

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, if you damaged Gran's wreath after I so kindly asked you to be careful with it, I'll—"

"You'll what?" I asked, spinning around and pulling her to me by the waist. She fixed me with an expression that said '_you know damn well what I'll do_.' I loved that she never backed down from me, that she saw us as equals in every way.

"It's important to me," she said seriously, avoiding anger in favor of the truth.

I pushed just a little bit more, because she made it too easy, and I wanted her completely distracted. "I thought _I_ was important to you."

After a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, I walked away, leaving her to find that day's note taped to the door, right underneath Marie Higginbotham's unharmed pinecone ring.

_If the third time was a charm, then you knew how much I loved you by the time Valentine's Day began. Earlier that night you intimated that sex was the only connection between us, so I wanted to show you that it was an incredibly powerful way to communicate. No one else has ever made me feel what you make me feel, or touched me so deeply that it's left a permanent mark on my heart. The slow love we made using condom number eight was nothing short of poetic. I lost track of where you ended and I began_.

**xxx**

Bella spent every Saturday morning pampering herself. She began with an extra-long soak in the tub. When she was done, she'd wrap herself in a fluffy bath towel while she dried her hair. Then she'd slip into her bra and panties and spend an inordinate amount of time rubbing in lotion, painting her toenails, and doing God knows what else with the bevy of tools she'd compiled. I'd observed the ritual countless times with great fascination, and the lack of clothing wasn't the only reason I stared. Watching her take care of herself was incredibly sexy to me. Since I had to work that morning, I decided to tuck the ninth note into the black polka dot panties I knew she'd put on. She always wore one of two pairs, and she'd worn the purple hipsters last week. If I couldn't be a part of her morning, at least my thoughts could.

_When you suggested we use condom number nine in the library, I was floored. It was so unexpected, even if it was my birthday. The intensity that resulted from having to stay silent was otherworldly. I couldn't help but hold you tighter and kiss you more passionately. It was the only way I knew to tell you without words what you were doing to me. I came so hard I saw stars_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Hi. Sorry for the delay. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas.

Thank you so much to all of you who wished me well. I saw the doctor on the 24th at which point my thumb had improved slightly but my palm was beginning to swell. He told me to rest the hand and thumb as much as possible, thus the lack of updates. I saw him again this morning and was given the okay to use the thumb lightly, so here I am :) The doctor suspects the lump/bump in my x-rays is a muscular calcification, and this whole ordeal is my body healing itself. I have an MRI on Monday and, barring any negative results from the scan, won't see the doctor for a couple of weeks. He'll x-ray me then to check the progress.

Again, my thanks to everyone who is reading and, most especially, reviewing.


	22. Don't Save It All For Christmas Day

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I do own the entire Harry Potter series on Blu-ray, and I'm proud to say I didn't pay more than $10 for any of them. Bargains for the win!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22: Don't Save It All For Christmas Day<strong>

Sunday morning I served Bella breakfast in bed, homemade crepes filled with organic strawberries I'd bought at the farmer's market the day before. Note number ten was hidden inside the newspaper I'd strategically placed on the tray. I slid in beside her and watched her for a moment, so angelically beautiful in her slumber. I would be the luckiest man alive to wake up next to her each morning.

I kissed her forehead and whispered, "Good morning, sleepyhead. I have a surprise for you."

Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled and stretched, crossing her arms above her head with a squeak. It was the definition of adorable. If not for wanting her to find the next note, I'd have scooped her into my arms and had my way with her. It still amazed me how many different ways I was attracted to her. She tugged my heart in so many directions. I couldn't wrap my head around the power she held over me, but I'd fallen in love with each facet of her personality, from the sexy to the sweet and every part in between.

She thanked me and kissed my cheek, whispering something about me being sweet. Sweetness had nothing to do with it. The most important thing to me was making her happy. She handed me the sports section in appreciation and dug into her meal. I waited patiently for her to begin the crossword puzzle, grinning like a fool at the way she lit up when she found the envelope.

_Does Friday, October twenty-sixth ring any bells for you? How about the hospital's Halloween fundraiser? I realize that the majority of women's costumes are designed to be sexy, but a leather corset? Were you trying to kill me? Obviously you were or you wouldn't have had condom number ten stashed in your bra. You're actually lucky that we made it into the privacy of your apartment because I was ready to take you the moment I laid eyes on you in your vampire getup. I wasn't exactly in control of myself when I finally got to touch you, so I apologize for my impetuousness on the stairs. Then again, I'm fairly certain the whole night was premeditated with the sole purpose of making me crazy. Mission accomplished_.

"You're right, you know," she mused, glancing sideways at me. "I chose the tightest, most revealing costume the store had. I don't even like vampires."

I laughed and lay back, folding my arms behind my head. "I guess I'd better keep my true identity a secret then. I'm pretty scary when my fangs aren't hidden."

"I'd say more pretty than scary," she said with a snort. "In fact, you might be the most handsome vampire ever to roam the earth, charming the entire female population one woman at a time."

"From my looks alone? No compulsion? No special talents?"

She moved the tray aside and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. "Oh, you have talents. Somehow, and I don't have a clue how you do it, you read their minds so you know exactly how to make them happy, making yourself seem like the perfect man in the process. And your skin sparkles like it's made from a million little diamonds," she added with a giggle.

I huffed. "That's not very manly. What about my instinct to drink blood? Ignoring that has to be a talent."

"You're too afraid you'd kill me if you drank from me."

"You taste that good?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know I do," she replied impishly. "And I trust you to keep me safe. That's why I gave you my body _and_ my heart."

"You gave your heart to a mind-reading, sparkling vampire?"

"The sparkly part seals the deal. You know I'm a sucker for diamonds."

Since I was only a few days away from giving her one, I was definitely glad to hear that.

"So, I'm irresistible then?"

I smiled playfully, baiting her with the implication in her words.

"I dare say you are."

She broke our gaze, lowering her head to hide the vulnerability she felt in admitting she was so affected by me. At the same time, she ran her finger down the center of my chest to distract me. Her barely-there touch intensified the ache that only she could make me feel—bone-deep and acute.

"And your body's mine?"

Her eyes flashed back to mine when she registered the seriousness of my tone.

"Yes."

"Gimme then."

I flipped us over, rubbing my hardening cock against her as I kissed her. I wanted her to know I was every bit affected by her. And I always would be, until the day I died.

A soft moan escaped from her lips as I reached for the hem her tee.

My body was moving full steam ahead, but hers needed time to catch up. When I spied her breakfast tray from the corner of my eye, the perfect way to warm her up popped into my head. I kissed my way up her torso, dragging her shirt along with me. Once her breasts were bared, I painted her nipples with some of the leftover whipped cream from her crepes and diligently licked both clean. The more she writhed beneath me, the more I enjoyed teasing her.

I dropped a dollop of cream onto her belly and dragged a strawberry through it, following with my tongue to remove any lingering sweetness from her skin. I offered the berry to her, staining her lips with the juice once she taken her bite. The next treat was mine. I sucked the stickiness from her mouth with obscene slowness.

She was on the verge of desperation, the telltale signs clear on her face, frustration and desire mixed with patience that had worn thin. I slipped my fingers between her thighs to give her a little of what she needed. Then I kissed her once more before sinking into her, relishing and adoring, sharing everything I had to give.

The next forty-eight hours were going to be the longest of my life. Christmas couldn't come fast enough.

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><p><strong>AN:** We're getting closer to the end. I hope you're enjoying the story. Thank you to everyone who's taken a moment to let me know.


	23. How Do I Wrap My Heart Up For Christmas?

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not. I do own a win in the office football pool for the second year in a row. I am ridiculously proud of this accomplishment, having beaten out all of the men that I work with. *grins***

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><p><strong>Chapter 23: How Do I Wrap My Heart Up For Christmas?<strong>

"You're not even going to give me a hint about what you got me for Christmas?" she asked sweetly. I'd swear she batted her eyelashes or widened her eyes or something. Intentional or not, the way she was looking at me was meant to make me give in.

"No, Bella. I know you hate surprises, but sometimes you just have to suck it up and be surprised."

The pout on her face was sexy and provocative, but it wasn't going to get her any early presents. Amused, I kissed her forehead and padded into the kitchen to bring my empty glass to the sink.

I'd been a bundle of nervous energy all day. It was a good thing I didn't have to work because there was no way I'd be able to focus. My shift at the hospital was a cover so that I could get everything ready for tonight's proposal. I was running on fumes since I didn't sleep much the last couple of nights. I was preoccupied with the moment where I'd put the ring on her finger, and the anticipation was killing me. It wasn't uncertainty, because I was pretty sure she'd agree to marry me, but I needed to hear her 'yes' before my world could feel centered again.

The sound of Bella's footsteps against the tile alerted me to her presence, and I turned to find her holding out a small, wrapped present.

"What's this?"

"It's a present, Sherlock. Christmas may turn you into a scrooge, but that doesn't mean _I_ can't give _you_ an early present. It is Christmas Eve, after all. I happen to know it's a Cullen tradition to open a present the night before."

"But you—" The words died on my lips. I was about to argue that she wasn't a Cullen. Definitely not the smartest comeback when I was hoping she'd agree to become one in a little more than six hours. "—and I started our own Christmas tradition. At least I thought we had." I gazed over at the kitchen island and smiled.

"Who says we can't have more than one?" she asked, staring at me with feigned innocence.

I nudged her until she was against the cupboards, then lifted her on to the counter and settled between her knees.

"I think the one we have is perfect on its own."

To prove my point, I kissed her until she was breathless. I was so thorough that my body was calling out for her by the time I finished.

"Your mind is always in the gutter," she teased.

"And you love that about me."

"Maybe, maybe not… I can think of a way to find out." She ginned mischievously and lay back, her mahogany hair fanned out around her pale face.

On any other day, I'd have already been unzipping, but not today. Today, I had a schedule, and as happy as my dick would have been to extirpate said schedule, I couldn't allow anything to get in the way of it.

"You have to get to Charlie's house, and I have to get to the hospital."

She huffed and looked away from me, a pronounced frown on her face.

"I know it's not ideal, baby, but working Christmas Eve beats working tomorrow. This way we'll be able to spend Christmas day together. It _is_ the most important day of the year."

"You're just saying that to placate me."

Her quiet voice didn't disguise her hurt feelings very well. I knew she wasn't angry with me, just frustrated with my job, which was something I understood. The long hours weren't easy to deal with under the best circumstances. The holidays made it that much more difficult. I'd made it even worse by picking up every shift I could beg, borrow and steal in order to get tomorrow off. I couldn't fault her for wanting to be with me. Christmas was a time for family, and though she'd never spoken of me as such, I knew she saw me that way.

I reached for her hands and helped her sit up. She shyly fingered my tie to avoid looking at me. Over time, she'd become better at sharing her feelings, but admitting she had doubts was still a struggle for her.

"I know my work hours suck, but it won't always be like this," I promised.

"It won't feel like Christmas if we're apart."

"I'll be back at your side before you know it."

She pursed her lips, quietly contemplative for a moment.

"My dad is going to ride me all night long about my imaginary boyfriend."

She was grasping at anything that she thought might make me waiver. The thing was, she didn't really want me to call in sick or switch my shift. She just needed reassurance about where my heart was. It was, as always, with her.

"Poking fun is your father's thing. If he couldn't bug you about my absence, it would be my car or your job or whatever else he could come up with. You know he doesn't mean anything by it."

Charlie knew exactly what was going on tonight. I'd asked for his permission to marry Bella soon after returning from our Thanksgiving trip. In fact, he was helping me keep Bella on schedule tonight. He'd promised to kick her out just before midnight so I'd have her home when the clock struck twelve.

"If it were up to me, there'd be no visit to Charlie's or shift at the hospital. I'd stay right here and spend the night showing you all the ways I love you. Imagine how much Charlie would tease you about that if he found out.

"Let's just put our heads down and get through tonight, and when you open your eyes Christmas morning, I'll be beside you, right where I belong."

"You promise?" she asked.

"I promise."

I loaded her car with the baked goods she was bringing to her dad's place, and taped the eleventh note to the top of the Tupperware container for her to find. I may or may not have stolen one of the cupcakes at the same time. I was a known sucker for red velvet. Call it proof that there was nothing imaginary about Bella's boyfriend. Then again, if everything went as planned, the boyfriend label would cease to exist in a few hours. I'd be promoted to fiancé.

_It was just a regular Sunday afternoon. This one just happened to be the first one in December. You were knitting mittens for Alice's Christmas gift. I was watching the Seahawks-Bears game. I looked up to find you staring at me. You looked so breathtakingly beautiful that the sight of you made my chest ache. I just wanted to be near you, to kiss your cheek and tell you how much I loved you. As usual, desire and need took hold the moment we touched, and condom number eleven paid the price. I'd spend every Sunday afternoon with you like that, if the choice were mine_.

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><p><strong>AN:** Happy New Year to everyone! Be safe tonight!

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you think if you have a moment to leave a review.


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